A Spark of Hope
by AutobotGuy710
Summary: Prime. AU. On a human and Autobot populated Earth, Ratchet, now a world-renowned medic, longs to start a family. Fate gives him a chance at just that when he becomes the caretaker of a young, traumatized foster child named Dylan. A boy who slowly begins to work his way into his spark, and sends him on the long road to becoming a father.
1. The Medic and The Boy

A/N: So, that damn hiatus bug bit me again. But let me just say, the "I'll Never Desert You" muse is just not there, I'm trying, but no bites ATM. So as part of my new: "I write what I want, when I want to write it." policy to keep my stress levels down, I'm taking this time to swap it out with yet another plot bunny that won't leave me alone.

 **SOME DETAILS:  
** I'd consider this somewhat of a spiritual remake of the idea I presented in "What Training Can't Teach You" and its sequels. It will **NOT** follow any of them, rather redo the idea as I believe that I can do the idea a bit better now, so-to-speak. But for those who will recognize the joint Autobot-Human Earth, this is why.

So essentially in this world, Cybertron was NEVER restored. And Predacons Rising NEVER happened. The rest is explained in the story.

That being said, this fic does come with a **WARNING** :

The following fanfiction will contain some non-graphic/not-very-detailed mentions of sexual abuse. Any flashbacks in the story will NOT show anything in regards to that, rather skimming over it. But as it's an important part of the character it will be there. You've been warned.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers, only the OCs presented here.

PAIRINGS: Optimus PrimexElita One, RatchetxOC (Past)

...

 **CHAPTER 1  
The Medic and The Boy  
**

Dylan Logan wasn't a bad kid, he'd simply had rotten role models who didn't teach him any other way. At least, that was what most of the adults that were still in the fourteen year old's life preached. And he knew that they were mostly right, after all, had he been dealt the crappy hand in life? After all, he couldn't help the past. No, he couldn't go back in time and change his dad's mind in treating him the way he did. In doing the unspeakable, disgusting acts that he had once inflicted on him.

He remembered those days darkly, all the nights he'd suffered until someone had called the police. To say Dylan was thankful every day for the person that had put him in care was an understatement in some ways. But then again, in others, he couldn't help but feel resentment. It'd been fifteen homes since he'd entered foster care, fifteen homes, fifteen families, and six cities, with Jasper being the latest in a long number.

He could have guessed that perhaps it was because he was a troublemaker. In fact, he was almost positive that his penchant for "acting out for attention" as his social worker, Reese Cunningham, had put it was probably exactly why he didn't have a home. But despite the loneliness a life of being bounced around had brought him, he wasn't actively looking for a home. No, he'd accepted long ago that as much as he wanted one some days, he'd rather not have to change for anything or anybody.

And besides, how could one not enjoy getting into a little trouble in a place like Jasper? After all, ever since years ago, after a failed attempt to bring back their planet, a group of aliens known as the Autobots had revealed themselves to Earth. After the initial chaos that had brought, the humans and Autobots slowly began to merge their societies together, making Earth a joint Autobot-Human controlled planet. Though Jasper had been destroyed earlier in Darkmount, as the Autobots former home, it was rebuilt bigger and better then ever with their efforts. Becoming the hub of this new society in its own way.

That had been over a hundred years or so ago, far enough back that it was in history books. But in his own way, Dylan was still in awe at the titanic machines that he, and the rest of humanity shared their world with. And he had to admit, they made even more fun targets for his mischief than his fellow humans did as well. Fooling the adults, especially foster parents, was easy, but fooling giant robots? Well, if you did it well, you could consider yourself legendary.

Dylan liked to fancy himself the latter.

At the moment, in fact, he was in the middle of one of his masterful "pranks" now. It was rare to find an Autobot in recharge on the side of the street, but he'd done it. And without even a second thought, boy had reached into his backpack for his two best friends: spray paint and stickers (don't ask about the latter, it was his own personal touch and "calling card"), and went straight to work.

On a canvas like the white and red emergency vehicle, Dylan's artistic talent shone brightly. And he had to admit, he was quite proud of the mish mash of colors and symbols he had created on its side, as evidenced by the twinkle in his light blue eyes. And perhaps, if he ever did get out of this "hoodlum life" as some liked to call it, he may make a good artist. At four years from aging out however, Dylan doubted he'd ever find out. A thought that racked his brain ever so slightly as he pulled off a small "D" sticker, his signature and began to smooth it on the side.

He was about to stand back and further admire his work when the engine seemed to roar to life. For a moment, Dylan froze, backing up quickly at the small groan. "What in the pit?" He heard the Autobot groan slightly, transforming as if he had just woken up to the feeling of being painted over. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked, once he had found the paint.

Dylan wasted no time slipping his skateboard under his feet, and kicking off. He wasn't about to get caught, and he had hoped that, by the time the mech had seen him he'd be long gone. Fate had other plans for Dylan, and the Autobot he had just tagged, entirely. "HEY!" He heard the obviously older mech shout from behind him as he could hear him transform. "Get back here you little pit spawn! You're going to pay for that!"

Dylan grinned as the wind that blew past him whipped right through the strands of his sandy brown hair. That's what the old mech thought, but ambulances weren't too fast, and Dylan, well, he was definitely fast. He pushed forward faster, looking for any means of escape, a drain pipe to climb up? Dangerous, but Dylan lived for danger sometimes. A store? No, everyone in this part of town, seemingly the least favorable part, knew him and would turn him in.

He moved towards a more crowded area, and ducked into the crowd of humans quickly, trying to lose him. But as he turned his head, the same vehicle could be seen moving down the street, keeping more than easily up with him. But in a crowd like this, he couldn't very well transform and hunt him down. The thought made Dylan grin widely, he was going to get away with it, a third Autobot to fall victim to his foolishness, he figured.

Or he would have been if the Autobot hadn't used his internal comm link to call his friend down the street. Before Dylan had even the slightest idea that something was up, he'd rammed into the body of the one Autobot he dared not cross, or rather his holoform. The lean, muscular, and attentive Autobot holoform of Prowl looked him over with a look of sheer disappointment that Dylan had come to know all too well in the year he'd been there.

"Dylan," Prowl commented. "I had actual hope that you weren't my perp this time."

Dylan smirked slightly, but only to mask his frustration. "Any chance you can let me go this time Prowl? Come on, give me a break," He kicked up his skateboard, holding it tightly. "That mech looked nice in neon green and you know it," He added.

"Get in the car, Dylan," Prowl stated firmly. "You just tagged the head CMO of the Autobots. You're going to be very lucky if you're not headed for juvie this time," He explained.

Well, that one was certainly new, Dylan knew. And for the first time in quite some time, he was beginning to regret an action he'd taken.

...

Ratchet was having a bad day, to say the least. On top of the tagging he had just fallen victim to by a juvenile human, he'd had more issues than he'd had to deal with. He didn't want to be on leave from work, yet he had finally been forced to take the "vacation time" they insisted on, and he loathed. He'd gotten two calls from incompetent replacements that for some reason or another, First Aid had hired. And now? Now he was sitting in the enforcer's station, scrubbing at the unnatural paint of the graffiti and grumbling quietly under his breath.

He was going to kill the young human when he got ahold of him, that was for sure.

But Prowl seemed to think otherwise, for some accursed reason. Even now as he sat across from the head enforcer's desk, scrubbing madly, he could tell by the way his doorwings moved. "I'm not going to press charges," Ratchet groaned slightly. "So you can stop giving me that look. If anything a human that scrawny would not last in juvie," He added.

"I didn't think you would," Prowl replied cooly. "I've known you for centuries, Ratchet. I'd be stunned if you sent a fourteen year old anywhere like that. I only said you might to put the fear of it in him," He looked outside to where the boy was sitting, waiting for his foster parents to arrive. "It's what the youngling needs. A little bit of that, I've learned while dealing with Dylan goes a long way."

Ratchet eyed Prowl evenly at that, surprised to hear that the mech even knew the boy. Ratchet didn't know much about him either admittedly, outside of the fact that he was on the edge of going to juvie. And though he wanted to strangle the life out of him, he would not ruin a child, who was still learning how to handle his hormones, and his actions, rot in a children's prison for something so juvenile. "And what IS the story on Dylan?" Ratchet asked curiously. "I'm not letting a gang member back on the streets am I?"

Prowl eyed him carefully from behind his yellow visor. "Of course not, he'd be behind bars now," Prowl explained, standing to his feet and sighing. "All of Dylan's acts since he came to our city last year... Are seemingly an act out of desperation for attention. At least, that's what I've gathered from the two foster creators he's gone through," He shook his head. "That boy is no more a criminal than the twins are."

Attention? Foster care? Ratchet shifted a little, that explained some things to him. When children were not getting the attention they wanted at home, they could act out like this. And when it was a displaced child, well, they sometimes took it to another level. "Sometimes I wonder if that system does any of them a lick of good," Ratchet replied dryly. "Where are the foster caretakers when he's out doing these things?"

"I don't entirely know, Ratchet. I only see him fleetingly," Prowl told him honestly. "I only know that when he is caught I never have an issue with him. As though when he finally gets the attention he becomes docile," He shook his head a little, leaning against the wall. "The boy is an enigma if there ever was one. I know some things from his file but I am not at liberty to release that," He explained.

Ratchet nodded his head, continuing to look at the human. Indeed, as Prowl had stated, Dylan had done very little since they got there. Ratchet might even describe his reaction to the whole situation as it stood as calm and calculated. He sighed quietly, if this were the case, he almost wondered if he should do something with the boy. Although nothing as extreme as juvenile hall, no, nothing like that. "Well he's going to be paying me back for the paint job," Ratchet grunted. "I wonder what his foster parents would think of a punishment of working for me. How old is he, fourteen?" Prowl nodded. "Seems reasonable."

"That's young to get in the work force."

"I'm not talking about the hospital. Of course I know that fourteen is too young," Ratchet frowned slightly. "I could always use a extra hand in helping to clean up the poorer sectors though. You do know I run that," He smirked. "And you can be any age over ten to do that," He added.

"You want to put a boy like that," Prowl questioned. "Into community service?"

"You said that he responds well to discipline. Let me help you out a little."

Prowl grimaced slightly, getting the feeling that Ratchet would not let this one go. This was a side project of his, taking a couple of kids down to the poorer sectors, usually volunteers, to clean up around there. He never took them to anywhere inherently dangerous, but all the same there was a lot of graffiti and litter, and Prowl knew Dylan could stand to learn a thing or two about the consequences of both. "It's not a terrible idea," Prowl hummed slightly. "If you could get him to agree."

"I'll simply tell him it's either that or I press charges," Ratchet noted as he finally scrubbed the rest of the paint off. "It's only a little white lie, after all. And I think that should be incentive enough. I'd only make him work a few months at the most before I relieved him," He grunted.

Before Prowl could reply, Ratchet had made his way outside his office. The boy seemed to stiffen the second he stepped out and his optics bore down on him. Was the boy afraid of him? He supposed he wouldn't blame him, he was after all an Autobot and much bigger than him. "I should probably press charges, and put you in juvenile hall with your history of delinquency," The boy sank slightly in his chair. "But," He paused. "Something in my spark tells me I should do otherwise, so Ill make you a deal, youngling."

The red flag that appeared to go off in Dylan's eyes sent chills up Ratchet's metal spine. What was this boy used to a "deal" being? Perhaps he didn't want to know. "What kind of deal?" The boy asked quietly.

"Community service," Ratchet explained. "You're going to be doing it for the next three months. I have a group that goes around fixing what vandals like yourself do to places," The boy grimaced a little at the thought, but Ratchet figured he'd find it better than juvie. "You're in high school aren't you?" He went off the boy's nod. "So you'll be in my weekend group. We meet eight o'clock sharp every Friday and Saturday. Sunday's I give you off."

"Oh," Dylan began. "So you're the guys who deface my artwork."

"Your "artwork" for lack of a better word," Ratchet commented. "Is defacing public property, young man. You might not understand that now, but when you grow up, you will," Dylan didn't seem to back talk him at least, much to his relief. "Now, are you going to take me up on my offer? Or are you going to be spending the rest of your childhood behind bars?" He questioned.

The look of defiance Dylan gave him almost made him think he was going to choose the latter. And for a moment they remained like this, having a long staring contest. Until at last Dylan blew a strand of his hair away from his eyes, and nodded. "Okay, okay. I don't want to go to juvie," He muttered. "Where would I have to meet you?"

"At the hospital where I work," Ratchet nodded. "We'll wait until your foster creators come. And I'll give them the details," He explained. "And I hope you know that the second you even think about pulling another stunt like this. I will kick you out," He explained. "And you know what that means."

"I'm not an idiot, thanks," Dylan looked up. "We ummmm... We wouldn't have to meet alone right?"

Ratchet frowned slightly, why did this boy seem so afraid of him? He hadn't even raised his voice, or acted angry. Rather, he was doing everything he could to seem nice, if only because he didn't know what this boy's life before foster care was. But whatever it was, he had a sinking suspicion that it was anything but good. "No, our entire group would meet at once," Ratchet explained. "You'd never have to be alone with me if it made you uncomfortable," He added.

Dylan seemed to relax at that, his arms falling limply at his sides. Yes, Ratchet figured, whatever it was must have to do with his status alone. Perhaps as an adult mech, but even as a medic he couldn't jump to any conclusions. "Alright then, where are your foster creators then?" He questioned.

"I don't know," Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think they like me too much. Last time it took them two hours to get here," He paused a moment. "We could be waiting a while."

Ratchet couldn't help but frown at that, why would anyone do that to a child? Sure, this was not acceptable behavior, but leaving him alone and afraid in a police station was not the answer by any means. Looking thoughtfully at the child for a moment, he took the transformer-sized seat next to him and looked down at him. "Very well, I can wait," He told him calmly.

By the look in his eyes, it was not the response Dylan was expecting.

...

Ratchet was even more exhausted after he returned to his small, one-story home in the heart of Jasper late that night. It had taken Dylan's foster parents, the Johnson's, close to three hours to finally arrive from work. At which point, they'd only passively cared about what Ratchet had to say, though they agreed to take Dylan to the community service. Ratchet huffed slightly, he really couldn't imagine a number of reasons why the boy was still acting out with foster parents who seemingly could care less about him such as that, as much as it surprised him.

In a way he didn't understand it, and perhaps that was because he didn't have anyone in his own home. Living alone made Ratchet do a lot of thinking on what it meant to be lonely, and how much family, and mates meant to a mech. For a while, he'd had the latter in a "girlfriend" by the name of Sparkbreeze, a nurse in his hospital whom he'd been very fond of. At the time, he had even dreamed, at his older age that they could settle together and have sparklings that would (to his delight) bring life into the home.

But, as if he was not meant to bond, she had dumped him some time ago. And so, his home remained empty other than his own presence. It was quite sad, as he was growing in his vorns, but he had to shake it off as best he could. Not an easy task when he saw someone take the presence of someone in their home for granted as Dylan's foster parents seemed to. But it was best not to dwell on these things, he figured as he fixed himself an energon cube. It was not his business, most certainly not.

A soft thunk on his door grabbed his attention as he frowned slightly, approaching the door. He quickly found the form of his younger brother, First Aid, standing there with a wide grin. "Well YOU had quite the day off," First Aid teased, patting his older brother on the shoulder. "I can't believe you became a human's art project like that." He added as he entered into the large foyer.

"Oh quite so," Ratchet murmured as he closed the door. "Little tagger had been doing it a while too. But I showed him," He added with a smirk of his own. "Or rather, I hope I did. Because I'm going to be seeing a lot of him the next three months," He grumbled.

"Oh wow, you made him agree to community service, really?" First Aid shook his head slightly. "Wow, you really want that stress? I heard who the kid was, and according to my pals, he's a doozy," He explained, with a raised optic ridge.

Ratchet replied with a small shrug in response, his optics matching his brother's own. He knew First Aid didn't mean it in a rude way whatsoever. In fact, his younger brother was one of the softest mechs he knew, and enjoyed the company of children even more than he did. But at the same time, he did not like it when anyone questioned his position. "It didn't feel right sending a fourteen year old to juvenile detention," He admitted calmly. "Not to mention he looked so scared I couldn't help but feel some amount of sympathy for him."

"I don't blame you, obviously no one can go into real details. But from what I gather he has a history," First Aid explained. "According to my friend, that social worker, Reese? He was part of some big scandal back where he comes from," He shook his head. "Couldn't tell me what, but definitely something bad."

"Something he did?" Ratchet asked questioningly.

"No, something that was done to him. Reese got pretty sick just thinking about it," First Aid commented.

Ratchet tensed slightly, just what exactly had this young human been through? He already had an idea, and it made his own fluid tanks churn in disgust. But then again, until he knew more he could make no conclusions, however obvious his younger brother may have been making it. "So Reese is his social worker then?" Ratchet asked calmly, going off First Aid's nod. "You should give me his number, so that I can get in touch with him. Perhaps I can learn how to best work with the youngling."

First Aid shrugged, as if he were still surprised that Ratchet hadn't fled already. "Alright, I mean I'm not sure he's gonna be able to tell you any more than I did. But I'll call him about it," First Aid commented. "Now, how about we flick on some TV? I didn't come here to just talk about this. wanna spend some time with my big bro too."

Ratchet smiled, and followed the mech towards his den, sighing. He hoped that the man could at least tell him some of what he was dealing with.


	2. Uncertain Beginnings

**CHAPTER 2  
** **Uncertain Beginnings**

At his own home, Dylan had just finished his dinner and retreated into his room as he usually did. It wasn't that he wanted to, quite the contrary, he might have been inclined to join the family in a movie if he felt more welcome. But Dylan, for all intents and purposes felt like an intruder in the home of David and Edie Johnson. It wasn't that they hit him, because they didn't, or they yelled at him, because they didn't. It wasn't even because they acted anything like his dad.

Rather, it was hard to feel welcome in a family that had four kids of their own, and no intentions of having another one. Those were the families Dylan had come to know were in it for the check and nothing more. And the Johnson's? They were not very good at hiding it. Any time he accompanied them to the movies, or in watching TV, or even sometimes at dinner, there was an awkward silence that hung over them. And besides, it was a day where he wasn't feeling much like looking at their smiling faces, or the loving gestures they gave their kids.

Some days, it didn't bother Dylan, since he'd never had any of that. His dad had been a monster, and his mom had died in childbirth, so he'd never known what a "real" parent was like. Some foster parents had tried, he'd give them that much, but none had tried hard enough for him to let the men near him. Not within distance of doing anything, at least. But on other days, that was the exact reason watching a "happy" family dynamic hurt. The thought that they had something that he couldn't entirely comprehend because he'd never felt that way with anyone. That safety, that security, that unconditional love.

The person who was supposed to show him all those things had instead gone against them all.

And so here he was, stuck bouncing from family to family. Because he knew after the Johnson's there would be another family, or at least another foster parent. And for all he knew they'd be worse, or maybe they'd be better. He had a few good ones after all, nice ones. But the nice ones didn't want him, the first time he acted out, or the first episode of trauma they weren't ready to handle, they dumped him back with social services. For the most part, Dylan was just glad he had yet to run into anyone like his dad.

He sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair and looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. He tried to think about what happened that day, but found himself groaning. What did that mech, Ratchet, think he was doing anyway? Pushing him into community service? What did he owe the people in this city, anyway? He knew very little about them from the year he'd spent there. He grunted, thinking of how the mech had acted with the fake "understanding" and "kindness". Why had he even waited with him?

Never once did the thought even cross his mind that maybe Ratchet was just a nice mech. One that cared about a kid like him even though he didn't even know him very well. He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on his closed door, to which he simply turned over to look at the door for a long moment. "Dylan?" Dylan groaned, it was his foster father, Dave, of course. "Are you sure you don't want to watch?" He asked half-heartedly.

The door opened as Dylan turned his head towards the tall, muscular man. He looked at him with a stern look, the same stern look he gave him a lot. At first, he had once thought it was because he wanted him to come, and he looked that way to make him come. Unfortunately, he'd learned his lesson there the first time he'd took him up on the offer. His glare, and mumbling under his breath had spoken for itself. That way of saying quietly enough "Why is this kid butting into time with MY family? Don't we do enough?". It was probably Edie, his foster mother who was a bit more compassionate, that made him come up and invite him that night at all.

"Nah, not really," Dylan stated as he pulled a book off his bedside table. "I uh, was just gonna read a bit," He explained, looking over his copy of "To Kill A Mockingbird" that was part of his curriculum at school. "It's uh, part of my English class, but I actually am really enjoying it. You know, it's amazing how they treated African American people like that," He opened his mouth to continue.

"Yeah, that's really something," Dave stopped him short, shooting down his attempt at conversation. "Look I'll talk to you in the morning. They're about to start without me," He then added. "Night."

And he was gone for the rest of the night at that. He knew they wouldn't talk in the morning either, because he'd be gone before Dylan ever woke up. Thus went the never-ending cycle in the Johnson house; so went the never-ending cycle of his life in a way too. "Well it was worth a shot," He muttered, climbing underneath his dark colored covers and opening the book quietly.

And somewhere in the night, he would convince himself he wasn't jealous of their kids. That he didn't need a family to make him happy, or that stupid thing they called love. He was going to be just fine on his own, or at least, he hoped so.

...

Dylan arrived at the hospital early after school on Friday, much to his displeasure. Then again, what chance did he have with Edie working on weekends? She'd picked him up, dropped him off, and went right on her way about an hour before he had to be there, and he'd bit back complaining. Inside, he found that the hospital was massive, brand new, and seemingly, the most sterilized building Dylan had ever seen.

He stared around slightly, wondering where he would even find Ratchet. He took a few steps forward, looking around quietly, he hadn't looked long until a young mech near the reception are caught sight of him. "Hey, are you the new kid in Ratchet's group?" Dylan turned his head, nodding as best as he could. "Wow, you're early, but it's cool, Ratchet won't mind," He paused a moment, putting his hands on his hips slightly. "Why don't you come back with me, I'll show you to his office," The boy took a few steps forward tentatively. "My name's First Aid."

"Dylan."

"I know," First Aid commented cheerfully as he led him down a hallway. "Your social worker is a good pal of mine. And Ratchet's my older brother, so yeah," Dylan's eyes shifted uneasily, surprised that they had talked about him much at all. "Hungry? Thirsty?" Dylan shook his head both times. "You know, I don't bite, you can talk."

Dylan stared up at First Aid with a look that said: "Why would I do that?". But after a moment, he took notice of the fact that First Aid was expecting it. Sighing, he stuffed his hands into his jacket and blew a strand of hair away from his face. "So, what's he like, then?" Dylan asked curiously. "I barely met the guy yesterday... Or at least we barely talked," He explained.

"Ratchet?" First Aid questioned, this time Dylan nodded. "Well, he's a little rough around the edges as a medic. But as a mech? He's a pretty good one once you get to know him," He explained calmly, crossing his arms a little. "Just go a little easy on him, okay? He can be kinda high strung."

Dylan took mental note of that last part, since he wasn't usually good at taking it easy on anyone. In fact he was usually the type that annoyed and frustrated those he came into contact with, whether he tried to or not. His eyes looked up at First Aid, and shrugged his shoulders. "I can try. But I'm not sure he'll like me. Most people don't anyway," He looked away at the mech's frown. "So you're a medic too?" He asked. "Does that run in the family or something?"

First Aid's frown deepened, to which Dylan couldn't help but wonder the cause. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't," The mech replied honestly. "Ratchet and I grew up not so different from you. Except our creators abandoned us when I was barely sparked," He paused. "Ratchet doesn't talk about them at all, so I barely know anything."

Dylan cringed slightly, so these two were "orphans" too then. He felt bad about that, but he couldn't relate as much. For all he knew they had abandoned them to give them a better life, and it was a totally different situation than his own. "Yeah, parents suck," Dylan decided to reply with. "That's why I never got adopted, who needs people like that in your life?" He lied, keeping up his tough façade as usual.

The way the mech looked at him, Dylan got the feeling he was looking right through him. He hated when adults did that, "that" being looking deeper into his eyes for some hidden truths. It wouldn't matter if they did, it never did for as long as Dylan remembered. Even if they found out what he had gone through, the horrors he had survived, the most it did was fill their hearts, or sparks with pity. And pity was an emotion he wished he could wipe from the face of the planet.

They finally came upon a door, and First Aid let out a loud knock. "Hey Ratch, I've got your new recruit here. His foster creators dropped him off early," He then nodded at Dylan with a smile. "It was nice to meet you kid. Good luck, treat him well, and he'll do the same."

Dylan watched as the mech made his way down the hallway, leaving him standing in front of the door. Sure enough, a minute later, the door opened, and standing there was the huge red and white mech from a few days earlier. "They just can't learn to be on time, can they?" Ratchet snorted, shaking his head. "Well, come on in then. I was just finishing up preparations for today," He explained.

Dylan was quiet a moment, then stepped forward into the office. It was huge, probably one of the biggest offices he'd seen. It was nice, neat, orderly, and filled with tools, and a few hologram pictures of Ratchet and different mechs, First Aid among them. "Wow, you keep a tight ship," Dylan muttered slightly.

"Mmm I don't like a mess," Ratchet told him with a shrug. "Tell me, youngling, you have stayed out of trouble as per our agreement right?" Dylan nodded his head, he hadn't done anything to warrant delinquency since he'd tagged Ratchet, thankfully. "Good, that means I don't have to kick you out. Now listen, we have a few rules we should go over."

Dylan put his hands in his pockets and rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. To say the least, he never did well with "rules" and he figured whatever the mech had up his sleeve wasn't going to be anything he couldn't ignore. "Alright," He paused a moment. "Hit me with 'em."

"First of all, you can CUT that attitude," Ratchet snapped, a fact which surprised Dylan quite a bit. "Don't forget youngling, I'm doing you a favor. If it weren't for me, you'd be in a nice barred cell in some juvenile detention center," Dylan kept his mouth shut, knowing that the mech was very right. "Now as for the rules. Number one, you never leave the group. Where we go are usually not the best parts of town, and I do not want to be liable for one of you getting hurt."

Dylan held back a snort, as if he was scared of the "bad" parts of town. Who did Ratchet think he was dealing with exactly? "Number two," Ratchet commented without missing a beat. "Treat everyone and everything with respect. Especially you, you're here to avoid juvenile hall. I don't want to see you betraying my trust," He told him bluntly. "And third, and finally. Work hard and make friends. We here treat each other like our own. Don't act like a puissant, and you should be fine."

Dylan tried to hide the smile on his face, since that gave him a little bit of hope. If only because Ratchet said that last part with a bit more kindness. He sighed quietly, and seated himself in a human-sized chair. "Alright," Dylan said. "Mind if I read while we wait?" He asked slipping his backpack off his shoulder. "I have to read this for school."

"A youngling that actually wants to READ to pass the time?" Ratchet asked in surprise. "That's a first."

"It's a good book," Dylan asserted. "To Kill a Mockingbird, I don't suppose you uh... Have read it? I'm sure Autobots don't waste much time with Earth books," He paused. "It's about this guy named Atticus Finch who's defending an African American man in the South, back when we looked at people differently for their skin," He began.

"I'm familiar with the story," Ratchet commented, looking at him skeptically. "He defends a man named Tom Robinson, despite the disapproval of those around him. It's quite an interesting, if not sad story if I do say so myself," He added. "I won't spoil the book for you if you are really interested, however."

Dylan had to admit, he was, even if he wasn't much of a reader. He was more of the casual reader type than anything, enjoying the occasional book but far from a bookworm. But this book had really drawn him in, in the way that a Harry Potter or Percy Jackson book might draw someone in. "I do, actually. So don't spoil it!" Dylan replied. "I uh, I'm a little weird, or at least that's what other kids say. I don't care though, I've always been weird," He added defensively.

"I wouldn't say weird," Ratchet told him honestly. "I would say intelligent. Many younglings your age would use cliff notes or the like. The fact you are reading the book and very interested is outstanding," Dylan looked up at him with a look of pure shock, had Ratchet just complimented him? "Please, go right ahead and do your reading, I have work to do of my own."

Dylan did so, taking his book out and picking up where he had left off. But another part of him was looking, discreetly, over at Ratchet too. Why had he complimented him like that? No one complimented him. No one generally gave a second thought when he did anything. So why him? What made this mech so different that he seemed to be acting not only nice, but friendly? Was it because he knew how it felt to go through what he did? No, no one understood he figured, it wasn't that.

He hadn't even realized how much of the book he'd read until he finished about a half an hour later. Dylan peered up, Ratchet seemed to still not be ready to go meet the others, and in general he was bored stiff now. "Good book, wasn't it?" Ratchet asked to end the silence as Dylan nodded his head silently. "Just don't bother with the sequel that came out a long time ago," He pointed out with a scoff. "Go Set A Watchman appeared to be such a disappointment I never even bothered."

Dylan chewed his lip slightly, he'd never been good with conversation. But he knew leaving the mech hanging would have been rude regardless. "It doesn't... Really seem like the kind of book that needs a sequel anyway," He told him calmly. "Like how I preferred The Adventures of Tom Sawyer to that Huck Finn book," He shrugged his shoulders. "Also Go Set a Watchman is a stupid title."

Ratchet snorted a little, teenager logic did truly amuse him sometimes. He carefully pulled out an Energon Cube from a cupboard, and began to sip before turning to Dylan. "Another interesting book you may enjoy is Of Mice and Men. It's a fair bit darker, which is saying something, but it is again, a story of early American history and how certain... Humans were treated," He then added. "In this case those with disabilities."

"People with disabilities were treated differently?" Dylan asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Crazy to think about, really. My best friend in my... Tenth foster home? He was blind," He explained. "And I, uh. Well they say I have a learning disability, NLD I think they call it," He added. "Makes it hard for me to do math, read body language, and social cues. Kinda minor, but it's tough."

Tenth? Had Dylan just commented on having been to TEN foster homes? Ratchet looked like he might be sick at that. That was far too many homes for any one person to have to be moved from, and perhaps there were even more, he guessed. "Yes, well, your species didn't know nearly as much about disabilities as you do now," Ratchet explained. "Even now you're making far more advances in learning about them than you ever did." He paused a moment. "Have you really been in ten foster homes?"

"Fifteen now," Dylan replied nonchalantly. "No one keeps me around for long. No one wants that kind of trouble."

Ratchet was silent at that, but quickly gathered it was time for a change of subject. "You know, for someone who was afraid to be alone with me before," Ratchet began, raising his optics. "You seem to be doing quite well at the moment."

Dylan turned to the door, which Ratchet had kept open since he entered for that exact reason. The boy had come to learn that open doors were a Godsend, as they meant that anything that happened inside could be seen. "You left the door open," Dylan replied honestly.

So whatever happened, happened behind closed doors, literally. Ratchet now was nearly certain about what had happened to the boy, but he hid his tenseness as best he could. He didn't have any real experiences with victims of sexual abuse, not human ones anyway. But the more he heard, the more he seemed to wonder if perhaps Dylan was his first example of meeting one. "Alright, so I'll make a mental note to keep the door open if you're in my office," Dylan barely looked up at that. "But for the moment, I think we should go and meet the rest of your new colleagues. They should be arriving soon, typically the first person arrives early around this time."

As Ratchet crossed the room, Dylan carefully set his book back into his backpack and followed him out. Still curious, at least in the back of his mind, why Ratchet had even shown him a lick of kindness. He'd defaced his alt mode, usually that meant that the person would want nothing to do with him. Yet they had just talked like normal people, and he'd even seemed... Gentle.

Dylan shook his head slightly, he wouldn't fall for this. He didn't even know the mech, and for all he knew, they were just like his father. He'd been a smooth talker, one that knew how to get your trust before he made you do things to him, or, more often than not, he did things to you. Maybe Ratchet was like that too, maybe someday soon, he'd conveniently "forget" to keep the door open.

No, Dylan promised himself, he wouldn't let himself trust this mech. He wouldn't let himself be lied to, or used, or disappointed (if he were to actually be nice and eventually leave him high and dry). Dylan was too smart to do any of that, he told himself that he was too smart to even consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, the mech cared.

...

There were ten kids, ranging from ten to eighteen years old in the group. Dylan figured they went to school in a better part of the city too, because he recognized none of the older kids from his school. Not to mention that, next to them in their new clothes, expensive jeans, and nice shoes, his mostly hand-me-down clothing looked old, and worn out. But none of them offered him any rudeness, even when he barely gave a very nervous greeting to them.

To clean up, they entered the part of Jasper that Dylan knew well. After all, many a time, his art had been featured on at least most of the buildings. It was an old, run-down part of the city that hardly anyone, except a bit of the homeless population occupied anyway. That's what made this part of town such a good target for kids like him to "express themselves" in ways that they saw fit.

That day, however, Dylan was only armed with cleaning supplies, rather than spray paint. And so, he was forced to do the work that Ratchet wanted him to do. Scrubbing away his own art, though there was no way that the mech could have known that it was his. In a way, the fact he was scrubbing his own art off hurt, Dylan thought it was really good. But on the other hand, he knew every scrub he made got him one step closer to finishing this "community service".

Ratchet, of course, oversaw everything. He sometimes stopped to talk to them, and half-way through had even broke them for lunch. Dylan had packed his own sandwich that day, and eaten away from the other kids. Knowing that they'd ask questions, questions he wasn't comfortable answering at the moment, and as a result, he didn't want them around TO ask.

He could feel, even as they got back to work, as they bore into the back of his head. Watching him silently, wondering why he wouldn't even talk to them. But Dylan had his own reasons, especially after fifteen foster homes. Friends were pointless, he'd been in so many schools that he barely remembered who he met in them. The only kids he wasn't afraid to make friends with were other foster kids, because they were, for the most part, in this together, and he knew they understood his mindset.

Other kids, well, just didn't totally understand.

"Alright, younglings, sun's going down!" Dylan heard Ratchet announcing as he had just finished the last of his brilliantly gold and green colored graffiti. "Let's all make our way back to the hospital," He added.

Dylan's whole body ached, and he was exhausted. But pretty much everyone else looked like they were used to these feelings by now. Dylan grimaced, if nothing else, he hoped he wouldn't be around long enough to get used to the pain. "Is he coming back on the bus with us?" A young boy spoke up, pointing at him. "Or is he too good for that too."

"Neil," Ratchet warned. "We've been over that mouth of yours."

The boy, Neil, looked annoyed, but aside from a sharp glare at Dylan, he shrugged. "Sorry, but I didn't like a tagger joining to begin with," He added, calmly. "But for him to completely ignore us all day? Really, the nerve," He added.

Ratchet appeared to be ready to say something, but the boy had already headed towards their waiting bus. He hadn't exactly expected such a hostile reaction, in fact, he wasn't sure what to expect. But to say the least, Dylan already had the feeling he was going to have some trouble with "Neil" coming. "To the bus, all of you," Ratchet nodded the kids up towards the bus, but as Dylan moved, stopped him slightly. "I know what you're doing. And let me be the first to say, that doesn't fly in this group. You have to talk if you're going to-."

"What?" Dylan scoffed. "Make friends? Fit in?" He shook his head. "I won't be in this group, let alone Jasper long enough for it to matter."

And then he was headed off too, leaving a very confused Ratchet. Had it been something he said in his office that caused him to be somewhat-hostile yet again? He doubted it, their conversation had gone well. But a part of him also wondered if Dylan was pushing them all away because he was scared. Scared to get attached, scared to make friends with anyone outside of the world he lived in. And definitely, scared of what Ratchet might do if he did, one way or another.

Inside, Ratchet made note to get on calling Reese, who he still hadn't been able to reach, as soon as possible. Because the sooner he knew what kind of a boy he was dealing with, the better.

...

A/N: Woo, working on these last two chapters was a doozy! I hope you all enjoyed them though! :D


	3. Revelations and Frustrations

A/N: Wow, I really wanted to just thank everyone for all the reviews, favorites, and follows this has already received! Your response has been amazing guys, thank you so much!

...

 **CHAPTER 3  
Revelations and Frustrations  
**

Reese could tell Ratchet absolutely nothing, and with good reason. The man was bound to confidentiality, and Dylan was a minor. So he hadn't even questioned it, or gotten angry. Rather, Ratchet did the next best thing, the only thing he could do. Ratchet went online, and began to look for answers on his own. There were so many Logan's in the world that at first it had seemed an impossible task. But then Ratchet remembered, silently what First Aid had once mentioned, Dylan had been involved in some sort of scandal.

And so he typed in the words "Logan" and "Scandal" into a search engine, and found what he thought was likely the answer. The story came from Oregon, and talked about a man named Eugene Logan, thirty-five, who had been arrested on grounds of suspected child molestation some nine years ago, the right time-frame for when Dylan had come into care, he noted. But the story didn't end there...

Eugene had been quickly found out to be a pedophile, the stories went on to add. His home had been a house of horrors, as the story stated. And Eugene had treated his one and only known victim (it was believed there were more, but none had come forward) in a horrible manner, in deplorable conditions. The one victim, whose abuse was reported by a neighbor? Well, that explained everything with one line:

"The victim, the man's unnamed son, five years old. Who was believed to have suffered daily abuse at the hands of..."

Ratchet could not read any more, he gently pushed away, feeling his optics softening. He didn't need confirmation that it was Dylan, because it added up to everything that Ratchet had found so far. The mech could only imagine what the boy had gone through now, and at the hands of his own _father_. It was no wonder the boy had these trust issues now, he realized, who in their right mind wouldn't after that?

He'd stopped his search after that, not wanting, or daring to look further into the story. It was a disturbing look into this child's past, and he'd rather be spared the graphic details of what may have happened in that house. But now, without even a doubt, the sadness that Ratchet felt towards the young foster child who had joined his group had just intensified ten-fold.

He had wanted to tell First Aid his findings first thing. But ultimately he decided that it was best that he kept the fact he had looked up information on Dylan to himself. If the boy found out he was telling others his story, he had no chance of getting through to this boy. But perhaps if he kept it to himself, unless for some reason he came to him, he could continue to try and make some kind of breakthrough with the boy.

And so he had done his best to keep his mind off of Dylan throughout the week. To get his mind off of the mental images that now ran through his mind. The thought of what kind of a life Dylan must have had while at the mercy of his father, the one person he should have been able to trust. So it was this that compelled Ratchet, two weeks later, to look a little further into the story, though into no more details of the abuse.

He found, thankfully, that Eugene was put into jail rather quickly. He'd only gotten a small sentence, much to Ratchet's disgust, of eight years (having been sentenced a year after his arrest), and was set to be released soon. He'd gotten five years for molesting Dylan, and another three for possessing child pornography. They might have gotten him on more if it could have been proven that he had been molested more. But Dylan had not been able to tell them much beyond the day they were caught, as he was probably too scared to do so. That said, the fact the trial was based on the one time the man was caught in the action, and the fact that none of the porn showed his victim worked against him. And though the man was suspected by some to keep him in deplorable conditions they found; again, they had no proof he was kept there, as there was also a nice children's room that contradicted some of the evidence.

In other words, the man had gotten off lucky. That was the human justice system at work, he guessed.

The thought made him sick to his spark, wondering quietly what Dylan would think of his father being back on the streets in what seemed to be about six months from that day. He shuddered quietly, taking a deep breath. The only thing that brought him comfort to that fact was that no doubt, his rights to the boy had to have been terminated by now.

Everything about this information was bothering him however. After all, he had too big, and kind a spark under his gruff exterior for it not to. "Ratch?" Ratchet jumped as he turned to see First Aid enter his office. "Is everything okay, bro? You've been holed up in the office on your computer again," He added.

Carefully clicking out of the article he had just read on Eugene, he looked up at him quietly. He felt his body tense, and his optics looked down at his desk silently. "It's nothing, Aid," Ratchet told him, even though it was a lie. "I'll be right out for surgery. If you'll give me just a few minutes," He added as he stood to his feet. "I just had something to look up on the internet before," He added.

But he knew that First Aid could see through his lie of being fine, he knew him too well not to. But even if he told First Aid what he had learned, what could he do? About as little as Ratchet could at the moment, or so he gathered. And so, he would face this alone for the moment, it was not a big deal. He'd be alright, he figured, he'd handled things alone, and kids alone before.

It just so happened it was nothing this big, or conflicting as this situation was before.

...

Two weeks flew by with relatively nothing of note in Dylan's life. Neil had been silent since the first day, and for that Dylan was very grateful. But he also could feel the glare on his back any time he was around, and of course, he knew that the boy didn't like him. The other kids were not that way, not at all, in fact, they seemed to be nice for the most part, and he'd started to exchange some words with them. He mostly had made friends with another kid, a girl named Scarlet.

Not true to her name, she was African American, with piercing brown eyes, and flowing black hair, but she was also the toughest out of all of them. With some great muscle, and a good figure to boot. She was around Dylan's age, he guessed, but having been raised under different circumstances was also the most open and friendly of the bunch. She'd grown up in a family with a lot of love to go around, who she seemed to get along with fine.

But unlike his foster siblings, she did not throw that around with Dylan. In fact, she'd guessed quite quickly that he didn't come from a family, or from anywhere with love. So she'd simply done her best to reach out to him, and be friendly, much to Ratchet's seeming delight. Like now, as they finished scrubbing the wall of a drug store. She'd been doing that a lot, helping him out. She said that everyone needed a partner, and if he wasn't coming to one, one was coming to him instead.

She sighed, sweat soaking her shirt as she turned to Dylan with a small smile. "You starting to see why we don't like your "artwork" yet, Dyl?" She asked him honestly, it was the same question she'd asked for a while now. "Really, most of your taggers are pretty good. But someone has to clean up your mess, and that took almost two hours," She explained.

Dylan grimaced, he had to admit, he was starting to see what they meant. Cleaning up the work was like going through hell, and he hated it. But he'd never painted with a canvas like artist's were "supposed" to, so he didn't know any better. "I haven't been out in three weeks," He told her honestly. "So I'd say I'm getting it. Though I think it's a waste, I mean some of this stuff is really good," He added.

"Well, that's a start," Scarlet snorted slightly. "Ratchet's gonna call us back any minute now though," She noted at the sunset that was starting over the city. "So I guess we'll continue your education another time," She then added. "So tomorrow's Sunday, anything planned for your day off?"

Dylan shrugged honestly, when did he ever have plans anymore? His plans used to be going out, and causing mischief. But now he was on probation, or whatever this was. And to say the least, doing any of that was absolutely out of the question. "I think the Johnson's are going out to the movies to see that new Marvel movie," He explained. "I might join them, or I might wait. I really don't care to see a movie with them much."

Scarlet nodded her head a little, rubbing her arm. "I get it, they don't sound like a friendly bunch from what you've said," She shook her head. "I'd invite you over to my place sometime. But we don't know each other that well yet. And my dad gets a little crazy about boys being over at the house," She added.

Dylan laughed only to make her feel better really. It wasn't like he'd expect anything to happen between them, he didn't want that right now at all. If they were together long enough, she'd learn about what happened to him as a kid. And he figured, at the end of the day, how did he explain to a girl about what happened? It'd get even harder as he got older he guessed, how could you tell a girl you'd never experience your first time with them? Let alone who your first time HAD been with? He closed his eyes, and breathed out

"No it's cool, I get it," He told her with a small smile. "Really, I'm not... Interested like that," He told her honestly. "You're beautiful and all, but..."

They stood there, and he knew Scarlet probably expected more. But eventually, the girl merely smiled as Ratchet shouted for them to load up on the bus. "It's okay, you know, I get it too," She told him honestly. "You've been through a lot I'm guessing. I won't pry," She then added. "Now come on, we should get back."

But as she jogged off, Dylan really wondered if she meant it. Could he ever really get close to a girl? Could he ever bring himself to trust anyone enough to, for that matter? He didn't know, he couldn't even figure out if he was okay to be around adults. Girls? Well, they were another thing entirely. But he didn't have time to think of these, even if Scarlet was beautiful, chances were she'd never look at him that way.

And for now, he was just okay with that.

...

As usual, the Johnson's were late to picking him up from the hospital. They might have gone out to an early dinner, or maybe they just took a nap. But for whatever reason, Dylan was leaning against the wall of the hospital, underneath a glass roof and watching as the rain came down. Of course, that had to add to the mood that Scarlet had put him in earlier that day. It had been overcast all day, but he had really not expected the pouring rain that followed.

He sighed quietly, wondering if the family had gotten his text. But in a way, he didn't want them to come at this point. Why couldn't they find time for him in their perfect, "happy" little lives? He pulled his jacket over himself more, and crossed his arms in frustration. He tried his best not to grumble, after all, it wasn't like him to do that, but he found himself failing in general. "Dylan?" Dylan jumped as he turned to see Ratchet stepping out. "Are they STILL not here?"

Dylan looked at the mech, who looked genuinely concerned, and nodded slightly. "It's fine," He added. "When the rain stops, I can walk. It's only about twenty minutes away," He told him honestly.

Ratchet frowned, the thought of it must have disgusted him. Because he looked truly, genuinely concerned at the fact that it might have been what he had to do. The mech stepped behind the door, carefully holding it open. "For pit's sake, you're not walking out there in this weather," Ratchet told him bluntly. "It was already bad enough today. But now it's pouring rain. Come in and get warm," He added. "And that is not a suggestion."

"They'll-."

"Be coming to collect you inside," Ratchet replied without letting him finish. "I wish to have a word with these people that call yourselves your _caretakers_ ," He added with a hint of anger, though Dylan could tell it wasn't directed at him. "Now come on youngling, I can tell you're cold. And I have a lull in my work," He added.

Dylan felt his body tighten, fear filling every pour of his body. But something told him that for the moment, at least, Ratchet was trying to be kind. Had he ever really been cruel to him yet? Not really, a little rough, but so far, he had been careful to make sure his door was open and he felt safe. And so, against his better judgement, he quietly entered the hospital quietly, allowing Ratchet to lead him down a hallway, though Dylan was mostly quiet.

"I want you to be honest with me, Dylan," Ratchet began. "Do these people that take care of you treat you with any kindness at all?"

Dylan tried to think about his answer to that carefully. They didn't beat him, or yell at him, that was for sure. But they didn't treat him very nicely either, not with the glares, the coldness, and the inability to treat him on an equal plain to their own children. "They aren't bad people," Dylan replied, trying to keep his tone level. "They're actually a lot better than a lot of other homes I've been to. So I can't really complain," He added.

"Like pit you can't," Ratchet replied. "There are ways other than abuse to mistreat a youngling. And if you ask me, they are neglecting you to extreme levels," He explained as they turned, and entered a massive cafeteria. "Don't you know that? Primus! Anyone deserves better than the way they treat you. And it's starting to really make me angry," He added.

But that was the thing, Dylan didn't know any better. How could someone who had never known a truly loving home in his life even hope to know any better? He hung his head a bit, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes, and by the look on the mech's face, the medic had quickly realized his poor choice of words. "Apologies, I did not mean to lose my temper like that," Ratchet replied, taking a deep breath. "I grew up in the Cybertronian version of foster care until certain events put me somewhere WORSE. And it angers me to think that anyone suffers neglect like First Aid and I did," He admitted.

"It's okay!" Dylan insisted, frustrated now. "I've been to fifteen homes in nine years, I get it," Ratchet frowned a little at that. "It's like living in a hotel from what I hear about those. I'm a guest there, not a member of anyone's family," He then added, loudly. "I don't need your damn charity!"

Ratchet looked hopelessly at the young human. How could anyone put these thoughts into a young child's head? Every child deserved to be part of a family, especially ones that had gone through the horrible things that Dylan had. He remembered the story he had looked up after Reese had turned him down, and felt sick again. This boy probably deserved a home with someone who cared about him more than any youngling he'd met so far.

And Ratchet knew he could be at least one of those things: someone who cared. Though the first thought had, without a doubt, come into his mind. He was at least someone who, even if things were rough at home, could still show Dylan that the whole world didn't pity, or not care about him. "Listen here," Ratchet told him sternly. "It's almost seven o'clock, your foster creators are not here. And you have to be STARVING," Dylan backed up slightly as Ratchet raised his voice. "You're going to sit down, and you're going to let me get you something to eat. And whether you like it or not, I _will_ have a word with your foster creators when they get here. Are we clear, Dylan Logan?"

The boy looked down again, but finally, made his way towards a table without another word, and seated himself down. As Ratchet began to approach the ordering counter, he could notice, out of the corner of his eye, that the boy was looking at him with wonder. Probably trying to decide somewhere in that mind of his why Ratchet was so assertive about this. Or maybe, Ratchet hoped, was starting to think he could trust this mech even in the smallest of ways.

He turned to leave the boy alone as he ordered a healthy meal for him. He wasn't about to put junk food in the boy's body, however strange that may have been. But he soon returned, with his holoform carrying what appeared to be chicken, some fruit, vegetables, and a bottle of water to him. Dylan seemed to take in his holoform calmly, it was that of a man in his mid-fifties, with his hair greying and his eyes a deep blue. He looked like a doctor, which was fitting, but also a tough one at that.

"So what are you going to do? Get me taken out of the home?" Dylan asked, biting into the chicken calmly. "Maybe sixteenth time's the charm," He added.

Ratchet furrowed his optic ridge slightly, venting out. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when they got there exactly. Maybe he'd try and convince the family to treat him kinder, but if that didn't work, what other choice did he have other than report it to Reese? He would not stand by and let a boy knowingly be treated the way they were treating Dylan, it wasn't right and he knew it. "We can worry about that later," He grumbled slightly. "Eat your dinner, youngling. And try not to think too much about it," He added.

Dylan looked up at Ratchet for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to trust him. But he didn't argue, he simply bit into the food, and continued to scarf it down. Ratchet seated himself down beside him, in a Transformer-sized chair, and watched him silently. What was it that compelled him towards this boy so much? He'd known other younglings before, even ones in foster homes. But something about Dylan was different, and in this sense, he felt drawn to him in a way that he couldn't possibly understand.

He promised himself that he couldn't possibly be becoming attached to Dylan any more than he was with the other kids. And even if he was, he probably wasn't what Dylan needed. He was strict, but fair, yes, but the boy was traumatized more than enough. He shook his head as he found himself thinking this, he couldn't be thinking about this. He barely knew the boy at all, and their relationship was professional at best. He could _not_ get attached like that, he would not.

He rested a fist under his chin silently, shuttering his optics as he leaned back. But at the same time, he questioned, if these feelings meant nothing, why was it that Primus had put this boy in his path? A boy who had been through so much, but whom he could do nothing more than he was now for. "Are you going to stare at me like that all night?" Dylan asked nervously, his eyes raising to look at him.

Ratchet shook himself from his thoughts yet again, and forced a half smile onto his face. "Nah, I was just lost in my own train of thought," He told him honestly, then looked at the phone Dylan had obviously taken out. "Any word from them?" He questioned.

Dylan shook his head silently, and Ratchet looked at the nearly finished plate of food. Frag it, if these people weren't going to come to Dylan, he was going to them. And if they had a reason to worry about meeting Ratchet before? They were really in for it now. "When you're done, I'm taking you home," Ratchet commented. "I'm tired of this," He growled.

He tried to ignore the look of worry that crossed Dylan's face.


	4. An Unexpected Decision

N HARMONIC: Well I'm very glad to hear that you gave this fic a chance and ended up liking it! :D I hope you enjoy this latest chapter as well. :)

...

 **CHAPTER 4  
An Unexpected Decision  
**

Dylan felt discomfort as Ratchet drove through the streets of Jasper that night. He hadn't touched him, he hadn't even really done anything but grumble to himself. But the fact that they were going to confront the Johnson's did worry him, big time. He didn't know how either one of them would react to this random mech pounding on their door demanding to know why they treated their foster son the way they did.

They pulled up to the Johnson's home twenty minutes later, and though Dylan had moved to open the ambulance door, it locked itself. This was it, Dylan told himself, Ratchet was going to do something to him now. But rather than offer him any abuse, the mech's holoform turned to Dylan, and shook his head. "Not until I know I'll be okay with leaving you here," Ratchet told him bluntly. "Stay right here, Dylan."

And so without another word, the holoform disappeared, and reappeared outside. Dylan watched from the window as Ratchet approached the home in the rain and sighed. Leaning back against his seats, he didn't say anything since the medic was the ambulance he was seated in after all. And so he simply watched as Ratchet beat on the door loud enough that even from his spot in the ambulance he could hear it. Ratchet waited for a while, and then knocked even harder, his patience wearing thin.

Dylan knew they weren't home if that was the case. But given his phone hadn't gone off, they weren't looking for him either. They'd probably gone to the movies without him, he figured. Probably figured he'd walk home, go in, and feed himself, as he had done a few times already. "Do you have a key to the home?" Dylan nodded slightly, since Ratchet's holoform was looking right at him. "Good, I'm getting in touch with Reese Cunningham. I'm sure he'll have a few words for them that I apparently can't deliver," The mech sounded angrier than Dylan could have imagined. "Get your things together, he'll meet us at my home."

When the door flew open, Dylan knew better than to argue. He knew that he was going to be moved, and though he didn't get it, Ratchet seemed to think it was for good reason. So he simply took out his key, opened the door, and made his way to his small room quickly. In foster care, they provided garbage bags for you to pack your things in, and it so happened Dylan had saved a few from his move to the Johnson's. So he simply pulled them out from behind his dresser slowly, and began to open up the drawers.

He really didn't have much in the way of property, minus his clothes. So it was quite easy to fill up the bags with everything he had before, and the very little he had with, the Johnson's. The only other items he had were a raddy stuffed bear he'd gotten from his first (well-meaning) foster family, a picture of his mom which he kept safely in his pocket, and a couple of books. Along with his backpack, school supplies, and texbooks, this was all that Dylan had to his name.

He was outside the house after a few minutes with three trash bags, and with his backpack slung over his shoulder. And as usual when people saw them, he could see that Ratchet was frowning at the sight. Turning to the holoform, who was nice enough to grab one of the bags, he frowned slightly. "So Reese already approved a move, huh?" Dylan asked calmly. "How long has he known?"

"I'd been keeping him informed through First Aid," Ratchet told the boy honestly. "I know it happened fast, but you're better off living somewhere else. The fact they had the nerve to go out and keep you waiting," He then added. "And before you ask, yes, I called the hospital. They were nowhere to be found," He asserted.

Dylan almost had the feeling the Johnson's had wanted this. Frankly, it wouldn't have been the first time that a foster family had tried to get rid of him. He opened his door for Dylan to throw his things in, and the boy was happy to oblige. "Whatever, this is nothing new," Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "You've been through this, right? You know the drill. People in the system suck," He added.

"Is that why you act out the way you do?" Ratchet asked as Dylan climbed inside. "Because people in the system suck?"

Dylan groaned slightly, this old mech, and his prying was starting to get on his nerves. Why couldn't he just leave him alone and pretend that he didn't exist like most adults tried to? He was doing just fine before this mech showed up in his life and started to actually... Well, _care_. Why did he care? And why did he not get even the slightest bit annoyed by his attitude? Dylan didn't understand it, he didn't understand it at all, and quite frankly it scared him.

Maybe the mech wanted something out of him. If it wasn't what his father had always wanted, maybe it was something else. He wouldn't do much for slave labor, he was way too thin for that. But maybe he was trying to keep him in this community service project of his, maybe he figured if they formed some kind of bond that he would stay. He thought things over as they drove through the streets and towards where Ratchet lived.

Dylan wasn't surprised to find that Ratchet lived in a nicer part of town. He'd figured by now that even if the mech wasn't rich, he was better off than the Johnson's. But Dylan was more concerned about what would happen _when_ they got to the home if anything. He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, and focus on the road as they drove down the street, with any luck, he may just be a nice mech after all.

...

Inside the home, Ratchet put the young boy on an Autobot sized couch, and found a massive, but soft blanket he could wrap up in. After all, the storm was still going outside, and it was coming down harder now. So the boy was, without a doubt, soaked from head-to-toe. Ratchet wasn't surprised when Reese called him to tell him that the storm was going to keep him off the road for the night, forcing Ratchet to have to look after Dylan for the night. But he was nervous, and what's more, tense about it.

He knew the boy would probably be a little scared, but hopefully not too badly. He was used to staying in unusual homes, after all, and perhaps he'd do better on account of that. But Ratchet also had to hope that, at least until Reese was able to arrive when the storm cleared up the next day, the boy could at least somewhat trust him. "Well," Ratchet stated as he stepped into the living room. "I know you're not going to like it. But it looks like you are spending the night, and possibly part of tomorrow," He explained. "The rain is coming down far too hard, and there are some flash floods taking place. Reese believes it not to be worth risking your life by taking you anywhere tonight. Especially since he hasn't secured another foster home yet," He explained.

Dylan pulled the blanket further over his shoulders slightly. He looked a little funny, pulling the edges of the huge, Transformers-sized blanket as he looked up at Ratchet. "And he just trusted you to take care of me until he gets over here?" Dylan scoffed slightly. "Really?"

"He and my brother are close friends," Ratchet reminded him. "I've known Reese in passing for some time. He knows that I am a good mech, and you will be well taken care of," He paused a moment. "I warn you the human food I have for when I'm entertaining guests is a little bland. But there should be enough for cereal, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tomorrow," He explained.

Dylan didn't say anything, instead he turned away. He knew that the boy was worried about this whole situation, but hopefully, Ratchet could prove that to be just worries. "Well I guess I can't complain much," Dylan muttered finally, his eyes looking up at Ratchet's optics. "It sucks for you more I guess, I'm not exactly the poster child for house guests," He commented dully.

"I've had worse," Ratchet commented. "An ex-Decepticon friend of mine, Knock Out is by far the worst."

"Worse than a juvenile delinquent with trust issues?" Dylan asked. "I doubt it."

Ratchet smirked a little as he seated himself on a chair. He looked at the boy with a look of amusement, the boy might have gotten a kick out of this. Though he hoped it wouldn't encourage him to go and find Knock Out in any way. "Well Knock Out is just a delinquent," He laughed. "He's even worse than you. Prowl's always getting him for something or another, including but not limited to: street racing, and yes, tagging," He then added. "And he's a fully grown mech that should know better."

"Now that sounds like my kind of mech," Dylan told him. "So," He paused a moment. "Are you ever going to tell me why you care so much? Really, I'm sure you've had foster kids in your group before. Do you treat them all like this?" He asked.

Dylan was right, he had had foster kids in his group before. But as usual, Ratchet could not pinpoint why he felt the way he did about Dylan. Something about the boy had sparked his interest, and whatever it was, it wasn't letting him ignore it either. "Honestly, Dylan, I don't know. Yes, I have had three other foster kids in my group," He explained. "But they all had relatively nice placements, so in some ways it may be the way you were mistreated," He explained. "And in others, there is a feeling inside I cannot shake, and I do not understand."

Dylan hoped it wasn't the same feeling that his father had once felt. But if he knew Ratchet better, he would know that the medic would never feel such disturbing thoughts to a youngling. No, there was something very different to this feeling, a certain paternal-like feeling that Ratchet didn't yet understand. "That's weird," Dylan commented. "Maybe you're confusing yourself or whatever. But that doesn't sound normal," He added.

Ratchet's optic ridge furrowed, did Dylan not know by now that someone could care about a youngling that wasn't their own? Fifteen homes, he reminded himself, that was a clear indication that there was a good chance that Dylan probably had not learned that yet. "No, this is not a feeling to be worried about in such a way, Dylan," Ratchet explained. "It's unusual for me. But there's nothing wrong with me," He added.

Dylan shifted a bit, as Ratchet looked at him silently. He didn't know why he expected an answer to that, but none-the-less he cleared his "throat" to grab his attention again. "Would you like anything while we're sitting here, I'll put on the television, and you are welcome to watch," He then added. "But I don't know if you're still hungry," He added.

For his part, Dylan looked surprised when, again, Ratchet thought of him rather than his own needs. He shifted the blanket a little bit, thoughts swarming through his head. Maybe this mech wasn't going to hurt him after all, he thought. He wasn't ready to trust him yet, not completely, but Dylan was beginning to think he didn't have to constantly be on his guard with Ratchet. Maybe, at least until he saw a reason to, he could just accept the Autobot's help. It was the first time Dylan had found himself even slightly trusting someone in a long time, he realized. And of all things, he was trusting a giant robot.

"No," Dylan shook his head slightly. "I'm full really," He commented. "So Reese doesn't have a family yet, huh?" Ratchet shook his head in response. "Great, I'm probably going to a group home again. I wish I had kept my pocket knife from the last one," He grumbled.

Ratchet looked at the boy calmly at the mention of group homes. "You've been to those as well?"

"Yeah, three of them," Dylan replied. "Mostly in the interim between foster homes. Don't give me that look, either. I didn't lie," He explained. "I said it was fifteen _foster_ homes. If I had told you I'd been moved around eighteen times total, you would never have made that deal with me. And I don't do juvie," He added flatly.

Ratchet rubbed his forehelm quietly, this boy had quite the story. And he had the feeling that there was also quite the history to go alongside it. What had he gone through since his father's abuse? He knew that other forms of abuse were undoubtedly a part of it if he was acting out. "Dylan, eighteen moves is a lot, but hardly something to scare me away," Ratchet told him. "When I was a youngling I was placed in five care centers, fifteen foster homes, and one juvenile detention center," He explained without thinking much of it.

Dylan looked at Ratchet with an expression of pure shock. "You were in a juvenile detention center?"

"What was the equivalent, at least. When I was young, I carried a chip on my shoulder as humans say," Ratchet explained. "My creators were cruel, vile people. Some nights they would beat me so senselessly that I didn't wake up for my education in the morning," Dylan's own eyes softened at that. "So when they abandoned Aid and I... Well, I didn't know how to act in a family unit. I picked all kinds of fights, and had one rule: to never trust anyone," He explained.

Dylan was silent for a long moment, what had changed Ratchet so much then? He seemed to still have a temper, that much couldn't be doubted. But why had he become so mellow, so kind? It didn't add up to Dylan. "What changed?" He asked.

Ratchet paused, he had told Dylan a bit about his past, so there was no going back now. "I was put at the juvenile detention center until I was eighteen vorns old," Ratchet began calmly. "I realized inside there the type of mech I could become. A terrible one, or a good one. And I decided that I was not, in any way, about to become the former, I wanted a better life for myself," He looked down at the boy calmly. "When I got out, I tried to make an honest living, but it was difficult," He explained.

His optics seemed to have a sadness in them, but his mouth was curved into a smile. "Then I met a mech called Siren. He gave me the chance to work as a clerical assistant in his hospital. And he became the sire figure I had always craved in my life," He explained. "What's more, he took me into his home, and treated me as a creation. He taught me everything he knew, and paid for my education as a medic at an academy. He offlined, unfortunately, before First Aid ever met him, since I lost track of him for some time. But lived long enough to see my graduation, and hire me in his hospital. He was a good mech, and to this day I credit him as my sire," He explained. "And all of this happened... Because I found it in myself to trust him, as he seemed to trust me."

Dylan stared at Ratchet in disbelief, stunned that anyone would do all of that. Ratchet had even, he supposed, been of age, which meant he hadn't had to invite him into his home. "So that's why you care," Dylan replied. "I remind you of well... You," He added.

Ratchet had never thought of it that way, but he supposed it was one of the reasons. Dylan did remind him of himself when he was a youngling, in ways that somewhat haunted him. They were both victims of abuse, both had trust issues, and both felt completely alone in the universe. "That you do," Ratchet admitted to him calmly. "I see much of myself in you, and like Aid... I don't want to see you grow up with the same anger I did," He then added. "You're a good youngling from what I've seen Dylan."

Dylan tried to stop a smile from forming on his face, though it partly did anyway. No one had called him a good kid, really. Most called him "trouble", "a pain in the ass", and other harsh words, but never that. He shifted slightly, resting moving his knees to rest under his chin, and wrapping his arms around his legs in deep thought. He wondered if he should say that he knew how Ratchet felt, that he had been abused as a kid by his father, and then again a few times by other foster families.

Why would he even consider saying that? This mech did not want his sob story, and frankly, he didn't like telling it anyway. He took a deep breath, and yawned quietly as Ratchet turned on the television at last. Likely, he got the idea that their discussion was done for the night. What was with that too? Not asking why he wouldn't talk about his own past? This mech was so weird, he thought, way weird.

Sure enough, they sat there, mostly in silence, and watching some sort of old movie on TV. He really didn't pay much mind to it, he didn't pay enough attention to stuff like this to mind whatever Ratchet put on. About the time that eleven o'clock rolled around, Dylan was fighting to keep his eyes open, his head rested against the couch. His eyes fell closed not long after, and Dylan wasn't sure just how long he was asleep then.

Or at least how long he was asleep before he felt a finger moving underneath his body. He could feel as the whole hand started to move gently, and that's when he acted. He jolted, and thrashed, scrambling across the couch, his voice came out in a shriek. "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" Dylan shouted. "You're just like him! You're just like him and you're going to do the same thing!" He looked at the bewildered looking Ratchet. "Well I won't do it, you hear me!? I've got a cell phone in my pocket! I'll call the cops!"

Ratchet could see the tears pouring out of the boy's fear filled eyes. And that was, above all else, the best proof of what he had researched yet. Thinking through his next move quietly, he moved a little closer. "Dylan, I would _never_ touch you that way," Dylan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Youngling, you can sleep on the couch if you don't want to move. I'll bring you a soft pillow to sleep on and you can sleep right out here," The look on the boy's face was starting to change. "You don't need to go anywhere near where I'm recharging if that terrifies you," He added softly.

For a moment, they looked right at each other, neither daring to move. "You know about what happened to me, don't you?" Dylan asked, realization falling over his face. "No one ever considers that, because they don't know. I never tell anyone about it," He explained.

"I do," Ratchet told him honestly, and in a calm manner. "I had my suspicions since I witnessed how you acted with me. So I did some research, simply to know how to handle you better," He explained honestly, a gentleness to his voice now. "I swear to you, I only was picking you up to take you to my guest chambers. I have one meant for human friends that has a nice, soft bed. If you'll let me take you down from the couch, I'll show you the way," He commented.

Dylan moved closer to the corner, fear still in his eyes. Primus, Ratchet wanted so badly to meet the man that did this to the boy, he wanted to meet him and take away what gave him the very ability to bear a child. He was ready to do just that too, but for the moment, his main focus was on the boy in front of him. "Dylan, I promise you with all of my spark," He told him gently. "If you put even the smallest trust in me, I will not betray it. You can lock the door if you wish even, it cannot be open on the outside that way. Even I could not get in," He added.

Dylan sat there for a long moment, contemplating Ratchet's words. And for a moment, the medic was ready to give up on the idea of the child putting any trust in him. But just as he was pulling his hand off the couch, Dylan began to move, crawling carefully until he was in the palm of Ratchet's hand. The medic could hardly believe it, but Dylan had put even the smallest, faintest bit of trust in him, even for the moment it took to lower him onto the ground.

As Ratchet led him towards the guest room, he didn't even go inside. He simply stood there in the doorway in his holoform, and let Dylan step inside. "I'm right down the hall if you need anything, Dylan," He told him calmly. "Goodnight."

Dylan just stared up at the mech, bewildered. He gave no reply as he closed the human door, and the sound of the lock snapping into place could be heard. Ratchet had a feeling Dylan didn't know how to adequately respond to the fact he had gone out of his way to make him feel comfortable. To show him that he would never lay a hand on him in that way, to appease the mistake he had made.

Primus, he had to help this child.

...

He had the thought while he lay awake on his berth that night. He'd written it off earlier that day, but why couldn't he foster Dylan? He'd thought about fostering before, given his older age, though he'd always thought about fostering Cybertronian younglings, not human ones. And he did have the license, he'd completed the classes about six months ago, but had yet to open his home yet, as he hadn't been sure he was ready. After all, part of the reason he sought to foster or adopt was because of what he'd gone through, and that had been tough.

But why not foster this boy? Why couldn't he open his home to this young human who so desperately needed one? He had the resources, the help in the form of his brother, and furthermore, he had the spark. The spark with a place inside of it just big enough for a fourteen year old child like Dylan. While most people might have thought about it for a few weeks, or even a few months, Ratchet mulled over the thought for all of three hours before he quietly commed Reese.

The man was still awake, even at two in the morning. A sign that Ratchet took to mean that the man had still not secured a foster home for Dylan, and that made his processor go into overdrive. If he did this now, there really was no going back, not in the least. "Reese, have you secured a foster home for Dylan yet?" The answer came back in a long-winded version of someone saying "no". "If you look in your records, you will find I became licensed as a foster parent a few months ago. And I think I've decided... I'd like to give Dylan a home here," He commented.

There was a long, drawn-out silence over the other end. "Are you serious?" Was the reply that finally came out of Reese's mouth.

Ratchet thought it over for a long, hard moment. Before finally opening his mouth, and making his final decision: "Very."

...

A/N: And now, here's where things get interesting! I hope you guys are ready for the wild ride that is about to go down. :) Also, yes, despite Predacon's Rising never taking place, and Cybertron never being restored, Knock Out still joined the Autobots after Megatron's death. (which yes, also still happened) Just to clarify.


	5. The Duty of First Aid

A/N: A big WELCOME BACK to my beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , who is now back after a hiatus! Thank you for your job on this chapter, as always. :)

...

 **CHAPTER 5  
The Duty of First Aid  
**

"This is insane, I tag him, and three weeks later he wants to take me in?"

Reese Cunningham looked at Dylan with a frown on his face. The man had obviously expected a more thankful reaction, but Dylan wasn't about to get it from him. Ratchet had seemed strange before, but now Dylan really wondered if he was even all there. He wanted him? Living in his house? Eating him out of house and home? Sleeping in his guest room? What did the mech think he was? Insane? There was a catch, there must be a reason, why him?

"Dylan, I don't think you should be asking why." Reese leaned forward in the human chair where their meeting was currently held - namely the guest room. "I think you should be thanking Ratchet. He and First Aid are really good mechs," Dylan looked off to the side a little. "Ratchet is the best medic in the city, and a kind person. And if you haven't noticed, he's a very forgiving one too," He added.

Dylan snorted slightly, amused at the idea. But a part of him did want to believe what his social worker said. After all, what had happened the night before couldn't all be a lie, right? Ratchet had been so soft, so gentle with him. He'd even let him lock the door and never once questioned him. "I guess I don't have much of a say in it anyway. He hasn't done anything to me and he can't be as bad as the Johnson's." He muttered, his eyes locking with Reese's green ones. "But if he thinks I'm just going to lie down and do whatever he asks of me-."

"Dylan," Reese warned him, his voice firm. "You're fourteen, and this is going to be your sixteenth home. And I know why you act out better than anyone," The boy didn't speak at that. "But Dylan, you need a home. You need people to take care of you, and you finally have one that wants to try... Even moreso than any other perspective I've seen," He added honestly. "You need to give him a chance."

Dylan frowned, it was a nice way of saying that he probably didn't have many chances left. He wasn't five anymore, when he could just get by with that small smile. No, he was fourteen, and the fact someone like Ratchet even wanted to have him in his home was something that surprised him. And it also scared him for other reasons that didn't involve his history with men. Say Ratchet really did care about him, say he wanted to take care of or even adopt him. What if that changed? Dylan knew he wasn't the easiest kid to deal with, and he'd been betrayed so many times before.

He wasn't sure what he'd do if the one person who may have been reaching out to help him gave up on him too. All the same, he looked up at Reese with a small frown. "Do you really think he wants me here, or... Does he just feel sorry for me?" He asked him honestly. "I don't want to stay where I'm really not wanted," He added openly.

Reese carefully reached forward, and ran a hand along Dylan's shoulder. He was one of the few people Dylan allowed to touch him this way, mostly because they had known each other a year, and Reese never hurt him. Dylan wasn't sure if he would call it trust as much as he would call it a mutual understanding of each others boundaries, but still. "I think he does, Dyl," He told him honestly. "He told me about his own past. And it sounded to me like he just wants to give the same thing to someone that... Well, that Siren guy gave to him," He added.

Dylan wondered if that much was true, but some of the signs pointed to that anyway. Finally, he nodded his head slowly. He guessed he could give Ratchet a chance to prove that he was really a good person. That maybe, just maybe, he and First Aid were the family he needed, even if he wasn't sure. He stepped off the bed, and allowed Reese to lead him back out into the living room, where Ratchet was seated, carefully signing papers with his holoform.

His real form tilted his head to look at Dylan, who barely moved his eyes up to look at the mech. No doubt, Ratchet knew how scary and strange this was for him, but all the same, he smiled at Dylan. "I know my guest room isn't much, but I'm going to outfit one of my bigger rooms with a human entrance. I'll make it so you can lock both doors on the inside, but this way, you'll have more space," He told the boy calmly. "We can go out any time in the next few days and pick the furniture out if you'd like," He added.

"Bribing me with a big room," Dylan chuckled. "You sure know how to work a kid."

Reese smirked as Ratchet's holoform approached him, carrying the paperwork. Ratchet watched warily as Reese looked over the paperwork, and after a few moments, finally nodded. "Well, it's all here. I'll leave you to settling Dylan in and getting him signed up for a school in your district. Since I doubt you want to drive the hour it takes to get to his school." Dylan didn't feel too sad about what Reese said, like at most of his school's, he didn't really have friends. "Better hurry since tomorrow's Monday."

"Tomorrow I'll drive him to his last day of school over there," Ratchet commented. "While I'll handle enrolling him at the school here right away at work," He added, then stared over at Dylan. "I hope you don't mind, normally my days off are Monday, Friday, and Sunday, but I was called in for an emergency surgery. So today I'll be taking you to work with me," He finished.

Dylan shrugged, what did it matter anyway? He spent a lot of time at the hospital on weekends. One more day couldn't hurt he supposed, and besides, Ratchet was his boss now. "Yeah, sounds fine," Dylan told him with only partial interest. "So, I'll be spending the day in your office?"

"No, First Aid has the day off as well," Ratchet explained. "He'll meet us there, and entertain you while I'm in surgery. I think it will do you some good to get to know him. Since you're part of the family now too," He he told him, with a nod of his head. "Then we can take tonight to talk about whatever concerns you may have."

Dylan swallowed, but took in the hand on his shoulder by Reese yet again, and felt a bit better. He wasn't really sure he was ready to spend time with his new foster uncle. But at the same time, pestering Ratchet would, undoubtedly, cause way too much trouble. So he guessed he would do what the medic asked of him, for now, until the time came when he wasn't sure whether he was putting even this minimal trust in the wrong person.

...

They got many stares walking into the hospital that afternoon. Several whispers were exchanged, but Ratchet was a pro at ignoring such idle chit-chat. After all, it was none of their business that he had taken Dylan in, it was only his. For the moment, Dylan didn't seem to mind either, but he knew that this was still new to the boy. Undoubtedly, however, the boy was trying to keep that fact hidden from him, if only because he didn't want to upset him. Why? Well, Ratchet could only guess that after fifteen homes he didn't want to get kicked out of this one.

He just wished they could have spent their first day working on his trust in him, rather than him having to spend it with First Aid. It wasn't that it was a problem, after all his brother had one of the softest sparks he knew. And for that matter, he knew that the boy most definitely have a better time with him than hanging out at the hospital. That said, he'd have to get used to the latter, since he'd be spending a lot of time there after school with him.

Ratchet smiled to himself at the fact that was the case. Sure, this wasn't how he was expecting to become a parent, even a foster one, but he wasn't about to complain. Fate had given him something he'd thought about for far too long, and he was happy to oblige. Reaching his office, he carefully opened it, and was relieved to see First Aid hadn't arrived yet, giving them a few minutes to talk to Dylan. "I'm sorry that I had to throw this on you and go right away," Ratchet stated honestly. "You'll find that medics like me can go on-call very easily. Especially when you have a history such as mine," He added.

"It's okay," Dylan shrugged. "I'm used to my guardian not really being around. You won't hear a complaint from me."

Ratchet frowned at that, boy was this boy in for a tailspin if that was the case. He shook his head slightly, and put his hands on his hips. "That's not what will be happening here, Dylan," Dylan's eyes shot up in surprise. "I get off in late-afternoon, so we'll have nights together. And what's more you'll be here during the afternoons on school days until we can go home," He added, watching as the boy blinked. "You'll probably see so much of me you'll crave time away."

Confusion was etched in Dylan's features, that was certainly new. Most of his foster parents would love to get him out of their hair, rather than this. But Ratchet was different, he wanted to spend time with him it seemed like, and perhaps to keep an eye on him as well. "You put a lot of thought into this for someone who decided to take me in overnight," Dylan pointed out.

Ratchet chuckled a little at the statement, indeed he had. He'd been up all night, figuring out schedules, and how to best handle Dylan. He'd even woken up First Aid to the news to figure out what to do with him when he got the news at around four o'clock that morning that he'd need to be in emergency surgery. "Well, if you're going to do something, do it right, I say," He told his young ward. "I was up last night figuring all of this out. So you're going to have to work with me, it may be rough at first," He inclined his head as a figure approached the door. "Aid, you're late," He grunted.

First Aid leaned against the frame of the doorway with a look that spelled: "Really, you're going there?". "Well gee, Ratch, I can only wonder why. Someone only decided to wake me up at an ungodly hour of the morning. Telling me I had a new nephew," He jested lightly.

"Foster nephew."

First Aid looked at Dylan as he made the comment, now adding his own frown onto Ratchet's. Ratchet knew one thing was for sure, First Aid wasn't going to put up with the "foster" nonsense. He'd always hated putting labels on top of family, and that was just the way he was. "Don't know, foster nephew and foster uncle don't have a nice ring to it," First Aid clicked lightly. "You're going to have to excuse me if I don't use that in reference to our relationship," He then added. "So what do you say, small fry? Ready to get going and let old Ratchet get to work?"

"Did "old Ratchet" tell you my boundaries?"

First Aid looked over at Ratchet, of course, given they would be alone, Ratchet had. Dylan had asked him to on the way there, and Ratchet had relayed it, given he had Dylan's permission. His brother had found the information sharing fair, given the boy had an all-to-understanding fear of mechs and men. "That he did, and I promise, I'll keep my hands to myself if that's what you want," He told him, holding his hands up for emphasis. "Gonna be a bit of a challenge, though. I'm a hugger..."

"Well I'm not," Dylan replied, starting towards the doorway. "Seeyah, doc."

Ratchet and First Aid watched as the clearly tense child made his way out of Ratchet's office. First Aid looked at Ratchet with a look of great concern, and the medic knew what his younger brother would say before he even did. "You're sure about this one, right?" He asked honestly. "I know he needs a home with people who will give a frag, but-."

"He needs a home with people that will love him," Ratchet interrupted. "We may not be there yet. But if we can't find it in our sparks to feel anything for that boy. What kind of hypocrites are we?"

First Aid couldn't argue with that logic, Ratchet knew as much. They'd both known what it was like to bounce from home to home, unloved, and uncared for in most instances. They may not have known what it was like to be used as pleasure by their own parent, but they knew at least that much. "Yeah, we'd have to be pretty big of ones," The younger mech agreed. "I just hope he won't act this miserable all day. If we're going to get bonding, I'm gonna need more to work with," He added.

Ratchet gave him a look, but First Aid merely winked. "Don't worry bro, either way you know I'll be kind," He told him firmly. "A kid like that should be treated kindly. So long as he doesn't try to cause any trouble, obviously."

And with that, First Aid was off, leaving Ratchet in his office. He found Dylan waiting for him down the hall. If he had heard any of that conversation (and First Aid hoped he hadn't) the boy didn't betray any sign of it in his eyes. "Sorry you had to get stuck with me," Dylan told him, crossing his arms. "If it helps he sprung it on me too. All of it."

"Eh, I wouldn't say I'm stuck with you," The smiling mech shrugged. "It'll be an adventure for both of us, really. I've never been an uncle before. And I take it you've never been a nephew before either," Dylan shook his head in confirmation. "As long as you don't tag me, we'll get along just fine."

"Hey, it isn't my fault he fell into recharge in the right place!" Dylan said defensively. "I don't go around Autobots on a regular basis you know!"

"Dylan," First Aid held out a hand as Dylan began to ramble on. "Dyl, I was kidding. I know you're still on probation about that with my brother. So I really doubt you'd even think about doing anything to me," He told him honestly. "Now come on, I haven't got all day. We're killing daylight," At Dylan's fearful eyes, he mostly winked. "Again, kidding. Come on, buddy."

Dylan watched as First Aid began to walk towards the exit in confusion. Was this mech actually trying to be... Playful with him? What was that about? This mech barely knew him and yet he acted like they'd been friendly for a while now. He shifted on his feet slightly, unsure of whether to follow or to hang back. The decision took him a total of two minutes before he finally made his way towards where the mech was waiting.

He hoped that he wasn't making a mistake.

...

As it turned out, First Aid wasn't actually all that bad. In fact, Dylan thought he was pretty funny when he wasn't trying so hard to break the ice. But well, there was a lot of ice to break at the same time, so there was plenty of awkward time in-between the fun. The mech had first taken him to a park near his new house where a lot of the local kids hung out. Dylan only half paid-attention during that little excursion, as he doubted he'd be with Ratchet long enough to make any real friends to hang out with. But he did get an ice cream out of it from a vendor, and well, he wasn't complaining

He next took him to lunch (ironic given the fact he'd just eaten ice cream) at somewhere that served human food and energon. They'd sat there for a while, and Dylan was surprised to find no one looked at them weird at all. Though he supposed they really shouldn't these days, as mixed families were nothing new. Ever since the Autobots integrated into society, interspecies adoption had become commonplace. Interspecies romance occasionally took place too, but Dylan knew it was less common, and happened sporadically.

Either way however, Dylan did feel a little weird eating his sandwich while First Aid sipped energon. It was different to be eating with someone who wasn't his own species, and probably felt stranger to him than anyone else. "So," Dylan looked up from his food to look at First Aid. "This must be pretty weird for you, huh? The way you're acting I'm guessing you've never lived with a Cybertronian family unit."

Dylan shook his head, his eyes scanning the restaurant. Nope, still no eyes on him, he noticed. And there was another child, this one a small girl, eating with a Cybertronian family too. Maybe he was the weird one. "No, I uh, haven't. I didn't really live in cities with Cybertronian families until I came here," Dylan replied truthfully. "My um, my dad... He kinda had a fear of you guys I guess. So he lived in the city Autobots frequented less. And I moved around places like that," He added.

"How did you end up in Jasper then?"

"A failed adoption with my foster family before the Johnson's," Dylan answered honestly, his voice sounding a little pained. "That placement was actually going great. It was a single mother and a couple of other adopted kids," He then spat slightly. "Would have been perfect too if her dick of a bio kid hadn't shown up. He tried to pick a fight with me, and I flattened him. Imagine that, he picks the fight, but I get in trouble."

First Aid frowned slightly, trouble seemed to follow this boy. Whether he meant it to or not, and that slightly worried him. Had Ratchet bitten off more than he could chew? "Trouble sure seems to follow you around, doesn't it?" He asked, without thinking.

He immediately regretted it as Dylan took up a defensive position, his mouth turning into a grimace. He shook his head and immediately looked ready to slam his fists on the table and stand to his feet. "It's not my fault, okay!? I got a rotten deal in life," He said a little more loudly than First Aid would have wanted him to. "I know what you think, I sabotage things! Make it so people don't want me. Well you're wrong, okay? I just-!"

"Dylan, calm down," First Aid cooed slightly. "I wasn't blaming you at all, kid. I was just making an observation," He tried to calm the boy down, not wishing to upset him or cause a scene. "I'm sorry that was a poor choice of words."

Dylan seemed to heave in a few breaths before slacking in his chair. This was First Aid's next observation about his "foster nephew", he wasn't as tough as he looked. No, he was starting to get the feeling that the boy was, above all else defensive because he was afraid. Afraid of being judged for not having had a family at this point, and probably, afraid that he wasn't worth being cared for in the way other kids were. "I guess I should open my mouth and insert my foot," He chuckled slightly. "I mean, I went through the same thing, and so did Ratchet, I get it. I just... Wasn't thinking."

"Most people don't," Dylan replied. "My file is super thick, and if you read it... You know I'm not even damaged goods. I'm tarnished goods, I'm so gross that I wouldn't care about me either," He replied honestly.

First Aid really wished this subject hadn't come up, because that was the last thing he wanted to hear from anyone. But it was a known fact that many children who were sexually abused thought this way, at least until they got help. "You can say things like that all the time if you want," First Aid told him honestly. "But it's never going to be true. My brother cares about you, so you must be worth something," Dylan's eyes stared up at him, but he didn't say a word. "And besides, what your father did to you is not your fault."

Dylan shook his head. "Everyone says that, but it was," Dylan whispered. "If I hadn't killed my mom in the hospital," His voice became distant at that. "Look, First Aid? I have to use the bathroom, so I'll be right back."

First Aid opened his mouth to say something, but Dylan was quick. Whatever words of comfort, or truths that First Aid would have given him would have fallen on deaf ears anyway. The medic shook his head wearily, they really had their work cut out for them with this kid. But he knew his brother, and he wasn't about to give up on the boy simply because of the effects the trauma had on him.

He contemplated whether or not he should tell Ratchet about this chat. It would probably do him well to know how his charge felt about his abuse. But at the same time, it might have been better to let Dylan come to Ratchet about it when the time came. Either way, he was now convinced not to give up on this boy either, no, he was far too compassionate and caring a mech to not do anything to help this boy out. If this was the child Ratchet had chosen to be his perspective son, then that effectively made him his nephew.

And he would never give up on family.

So as Dylan approached him again quietly, First Aid put on the biggest smile he could muster. "Alright bud," He said chipperly, as if nothing had happened. "What do you say we get this bill paid, and then I'll take you to the big book store down the street. Ratchet said you liked to read, right?" Dylan nodded. "You can pick up a few, my treat."

"You don't have to do that..."

"I know, " First Aid replied honestly. "I want to."

At that, First Aid would swear he had gotten a ghost of a smile out of the boy.

...

A/N: Figured it was time to have a little more time between Dylan and First Aid too. :)


	6. Trauma Spells

A/N: As always, a great big thank you to my beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her work on this chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 6**  
 **Trauma Spell**

Ratchet spent the evening promising Dylan that his home had the greatest security system money could buy. And it was true, though he knew Dylan also somewhat feared him, he had no reason to fear someone getting in. Even if Ratchet had only known when Reese had begun to explain over the phone, he would have checked and double checked that day. And of course, that was what Ratchet did when they were in the home for the night, just to make sure Dylan felt safe and secure while he slept that night.

Dylan was surprised by how much effort the mech was putting into it. Why did he care so much if he felt safe while he was asleep? He'd also talked to him about a woman he had talked to on the phone, and said Dylan would be going to therapy for what happened to him. Not to torture him with what happened to him when he was a child, but, as he put it, to help him move past it and heal.

He wasn't sure how he felt about it all, it was all so different. Most foster parents didn't care this much when they were told about his history. But Ratchet wasn't much like other families, and not just because he was a giant, sentient robot. No, he tried, or at least seemed to try to care about him. But even then, Dylan doubted it would last. He figured that the first nightmare, or flashback episode, or outburst of anger he had a hard time controlling, he'd throw him out like everyone else had.

He laid on the guest bed silently, the books that First Aid had bought him settled on his nightstand. He shifted slightly, stretching out and putting his hands behind his head. What could he do though? This was his home now, for better or worse, Ratchet WAS his foster father. But at the very least, for the moment, Ratchet was nice, and hopefully, as caring as he tried to make himself out to be.

He carefully pulled his legs to his chest slowly, resting his chin under his knees. There were few times that Dylan would admit he was scared out loud, but in his head, in his head he could. He was scared Ratchet would eventually start using him like his dad did, scared that he would get attached and then have his heart broken again. No one but Dylan could understand that, at least in his mind. No one could understand how much he hurt.

A knock on his door rustled him from his thoughts, but he didn't look back at the person. "Dylan?" It was undoubtedly Ratchet's holoform. "Are you feeling okay? You haven't come out or said anything in a few hours," He commented. "The pizza I ordered should be here soon," He added.

Dylan sat up, taking a deep breath and looking over at Ratchet. Did he ask the mech now? Or did he continue to act quiet and mysterious? That was the question. After a long moment, Dylan took a deep breath, and looked him in the eyes. "What is this, Ratchet?" He asked honestly, his tone quiet. "I mean why are you doing this for me, exactly?"

Ratchet was silent as he crossed over and seated himself on the edge of the bed. He crossed his arms slightly, and looked at Dylan. He knew better than to reach over and touch the boy, so instead he gave a warm smile. "What this is, is me giving someone what Siren gave me," Ratchet told him gently. "From the first time we met, I saw something in you. Something I don't quite understand," He added. "But it told me to help you, to guide you. And ultimately, I knew that you deserved better than you had. And perhaps to give you that, it was time for someone who felt that way about you to step up."

Dylan looked at Ratchet, chewing his lip and trying to take what he just said in. But the more he thought about it, the more he knew it made sense. In some way, Ratchet had that thought, about what Siren had done for him all those years ago. And now he saw what Dylan felt must have been a chance to repay the mech that had long passed on. Or so, Dylan figured was the case. "You may think that's it, but it probably isn't," Dylan told him softly. "I wish you wouldn't put so much time into a room or anything. Because you'll give up on me, everyone eventually does," He admitted.

That's when Ratchet did something that Dylan wasn't sure how to react to. He felt the hand that gently moved onto his knee, and for a moment, he nearly yanked back, but there was something about it. There was a gentleness to it, a softness, nothing like when his father had touched him anywhere on his leg. Was this... Comfort? Dylan wasn't entirely sure, but none the less, Ratchet gave him a soft look. "Dylan, I am going to make a promise to you now," The medic told him firmly. "No matter what happens between us... I am not going to give up on you," He added.

"What if you don't want me here anymore?" Dylan asked, disbelieving.

"Then I'll mentor you, be simple friends with you," Dylan's eyes stared at him, his look practically spelling out how bewildered he was. "But I know what it feels like to have the world give up on you. And even though I found a place where I was appreciated, under the leader of the Autobots especially," He explained calmly. "I know how horrible a feeling that is. And I never want to see someone go through that same thing as long as I still function."

Dylan was even more surprised when Ratchet didn't remove the hand, instead rubbing his knee gently. The mech looked into his eyes for a long moment, but didn't expect a reaction. Dylan was, simply put, probably still taking in what he had just said to him. And so he carefully removed his hand, and nodded his head as the doorbell rang. "Well, there is your pizza," He added. "Come along."

Dylan nodded his head slowly as the holoform disappeared, sucking in a breath. That moment had, perhaps, been one of the most genuine moments of affection he received. And it scared him, it really did. What he was afraid of exactly, he couldn't tell. Of the fact that Ratchet may not keep his promise? That maybe, just maybe, he had a chance at a real life here? Of a real family?

He carefully stood to his feet, and started toward the door. he thought about all of this. After his father had done all that he did, could he really bring himself to trust a mech? He crossed his arms slightly, and let those thoughts continue, he really had no idea if he could. But maybe Ratchet wouldn't be too bad a start at trying.

...

Ratchet heard Dylan crying that night, and it was something that actually scared him. He hadn't even noticed it until he got loud, if he'd had a nightmare he expected a scream. But he could think of nothing else that it could have been, that much he knew as he stood outside Dylan's locked door. What did he do in this situation? Ratchet didn't know, he'd never dealt with a situation like this, but he had been prepared for it.

So he simply crouched down by the door, and spoke softly. "Dylan? Are you okay?" He asked calmly. "Can I come in?" He asked.

There was no response, and to say the least, that scared him. And that was why he projected his holoform inside, not knowing what he'd find. What he found? Probably would have sent a caregiver that knew nothing running away right then and there. Dylan was in the corner of the room rather than on his bed, his blankets drawn around him as he sobbed, and he sobbed hard. Ratchet watched as Dylan rocked back and forth, his eyes closed, and his body shaking.

Ratchet looked over at the bed, wondering if he had wet it after the research he had done. Knowing one of the most common reactions was that, even when a child was older. It was said the "unpleasant odor" was supposed to protect the abused child, at least in their minds. But luckily, Dylan had not done that, and had no reason to be embarrassed. But his reaction was none-the-less a sad one to witness. What had his father put him through during the abuse that made him react in such a way? He couldn't imagine, he didn't want to imagine.

"Dylan?" Ratchet spoke calmly. "You're alright, son. Just relax," The boy looked up at him with fear. "Whatever nightmare you had was just that, a nightmare."

Dylan trembled slightly, only shrinking inward into himself. For the first time, Ratchet could finally see not a tough young teenager. Rather, he saw a terrified young child, which was exactly what Dylan probably was. "Go away," Dylan sputtered. "GO AWAY!" He shouted one more time.

"No," Ratchet told him calmly, approaching him. "Dylan, I'm not going to hurt you," As he reached him, his holoform crouched low to him. "Remember? It's Ratchet, not your father," Dylan stared at him, still shaking. "Deep breaths youngling, get yourself calm and then we'll see about getting you back to bed," He added.

Dylan didn't say anything, continuing to curl up into himself. But Ratchet didn't touch him, even as his holoform slinked down beside him, and seated himself close to the boy. Even if he couldn't give Dylan comfort physically for the moment, he did want the boy to know he was there. And more importantly that no one would hurt him there. And they sat there for a little bit, Dylan sobs slowly losing momentum and Ratchet's eyes firmly settled on him without even a second thought.

When Dylan finally had composed himself the best he could, he looked at Ratchet. "I'm sorry," He sniffled slightly, rubbing his tears off on his arm. "I didn't mean to yell at you, I was just scared. I thought you were..." He shook his head. "You just showed up in my room so suddenly I thought maybe he could have gotten in. He's getting out soon, and..."

Ratchet stared at Dylan's window, relieved to see that it was still closed. But there was a tree outside just near Dylan's window, and Ratchet could already tell what it probably was. Dylan must have heard the tree scratching against the window and reacted in such a way. Not a nightmare at all, but a terrifying flashback. "You probably heard the tree scratching against the window," Ratchet informed him slowly. "The window's closed, Dylan."

Dylan held his hands against the sides of his head, his cheeks flushing in clear embarrassment. "O-One time when I was first taken in," Dylan muttered. "I was taken by neighbors... He found out, and he snuck in through the window," His voice was low and quiet. "I thought maybe..."

Ratchet thought of what he could possibly do, his eyes looking over at the window. A few minutes later, Dylan could hear the loud footsteps of Ratchet's real form. He peered at the window, and saw a large, white and red leg standing outside. "No one is getting through that window," Ratchet told him gently. "If they try, they'll be answering to me. I can recharge standing up, a technique I learned as an Autobot," He explained. "I'll turn on my proximity alerts to wake me up if I even feel the slightest disturbance."

Dylan stared at Ratchet, again, at a loss for words. Had Ratchet just sacrificed a comfortable recharge to make sure that he could sleep soundly? Dylan stared at the mech, and nodded slightly, standing to his feet. He wordlessly helped Ratchet make his bed before standing there, still trembling slightly. "It's alright, Dylan, I won't move," Ratchet noted, pulling back the covers slightly. "Come on, son, you need to sleep."

After some hesitation, Dylan climbed inside the bed. But just as he was about to pull the covers over him, he found him beat to it by Ratchet's holoform. The mech carefully tucked the blankets over his body, up to his chin. "If you want, I'll sit here until you go to sleep," Ratchet commented.

"No," Dylan replied fearfully, Ratchet should have known better. "I'll be okay. Just, don't leave... The window, please?"

Ratchet nodded his head, gently stroking his bangs slightly. "I swear on my spark, Dylan. No one is coming to hurt you tonight," He told the boy gently. "Goodnight, young one."

Dylan watched as he moved away, but before he sent his holoform away, Ratchet heard his small voice again. This time, it spoke a statement that Ratchet had to do a double take at. "Thank you."

As it disappeared, Ratchet tried to comprehend what his holoform had heard. A break-through? Maybe a small one, but a small victory was better than none in this case. Quietly, Ratchet prepared himself for his standing recharge, but decided to keep his optics onlined for a while, just a few minutes he told himself. Long enough that if Dylan had the trauma spell again, he'd be aware.

But even in the back of his mind, he knew recharge would not be possible that night after what he'd witnessed.

...

"So you didn't send him to school?"

"Primus no, he's still sleeping," Ratchet replied to the voice on the other end, belonging to Optimus Prime. "You didn't see him last night, it took a full two hours to get him back to sleep," The medic shuddered slightly. "I'm sorry I'm calling you. Especially because it's not my place to tell you what's wrong. But Aid's at work, and well. You're the only other person that listens when I go on these rants."

And rant he had, but not without good reason. Seeing Dylan like that last night had destroyed him, and for a moment, Ratchet felt his confidence about taking care of him waver. If there was ever a time he needed the wise words of his leader, now was the time. "It will be easier to give advice when I come for my visit next week," Optimus replied honestly. "But I do not think the answer is to give up now, Ratchet. You knew the boy had - whatever trauma he does," He commented. "Now you'll be more prepared to handle it next time."

Next time? Ratchet really didn't want to think about there being a next time. That was like reassuring himself that Optimus, for all accounts a youngling-whisperer if Ratchet ever knew one, would be there in a week. It only caused him to feel more worried and stressed. "Optimus, that's not what I need to hear," Ratchet groaned. "I need some advice on what to do to help him now. He doesn't start therapy until next week, I couldn't get him an appointment until then. He doesn't have friends to connect with, except Scarlet, who he doesn't see until Friday," He felt himself tensing up. "I need someone other than his family who can... I don't know, talk to him? Be a friend? Maybe help him overcome this same as me."

There was a long silence on the other end as Optimus seemed to move into deep thought. "Have you thought about taking him to meet Bumblebee?" Ratchet's optics lit up at Optimus's words, as he felt stupid about not thinking of that already. "Not only is he younger, but he also knows what it's like to suffer abuse. As I'm guessing that is what we are dealing with from what you've told me," He explained. "Perhaps that would help him form some kind of common bond-."

"I'm trying that with my own experience."

"But Bumblebee has only been around for twenty vorns," Optimus explained. "Mentally, he is only six years older than Dylan. You told me you wish for someone who could form a bond and aid in getting him to come out of his shell, did you not?" Ratchet sighed, thinking it over. "Perhaps what needs to be continually driven home is a simple fact: he is not alone."

Ratchet knew Bumblebee had never been sexually abused, but Optimus made a fair point. Before Optimus had taken Bumblebee in, he'd run away from a cruel youth sector run by future Decepticons. He'd been ten vorns old, and it'd only been ten vorns since then. "It's worth a shot at least," Ratchet replied, crossing his arms. "The closer age proximity at least is. If that doesn't work, hopefully he can make a friend out of Bee," He added.

"Indeed, but I'm afraid I must go old friend," Optimus replied. "I will talk to you soon."

"Yeah, talk to you soon."

Ratchet leaned against the wall in the living room silently, his optics lowering to the floor. Bumblebee was really the only chance he had for Dylan meeting a victim closer to his own age really. He and Aid were the only other people he knew, mech or femme, that had been victims of abuse at some point in their life after all. Most of the foster kids he'd met had been in care for other reasons, or simply not shared that part of their history with anyone. "Why didn't you wake me up for school?"

Ratchet turned, noticing as Dylan had entered the room, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He let the holoform he had been using disappear and finally moved inside with robot form, shaking his head. "After the night you had, I thought you could use the sleep," He explained. "You're moving schools tomorrow anyway, I just signed you up online. So it really doesn't matter much," He added. "But as you can see, I never left my spot outside, as promised."

Dylan looked at him for a long moment, but didn't seem to have a reply. Until finally, he let a small smile escape his lips and nodded. "Yeah, uh, thanks... Again," Dylan managed as he allowed Ratchet to lift him and put him on the kitchen table. "You really need to get some human sized furniture," He told him.

"I know, I know. I mostly used to have Team Prime's human charges here. Or their kids, or their grandkids, so they usually had no problem putting up with me picking them up for a day. So I never really got around to it," Ratchet admitted with a half-shrug as he carefully placed a bowl, milk, a spoon, and some cereal in front of Dylan with assistance from his holoform. "We can go out and do that on Friday, after group."

Dylan looked at him, surprised that he would still be attending group. After all, clearly their "deal" was off now that he was his foster son, so why? "You're still going to make me go to group?" Dylan asked. "Really? They hate me there, and I'm living with you now," He added.

"Ah, but I'm still holding you to those three months. Even if I won't send you to juvie," Dylan groaned as he put together his breakfast, giving Ratchet a death glare. "Don't give me that look young one. You made a mistake, and you still need to learn that there are consequences," He told him gruffly, putting his fists on his hips. "And any youngling that is living under MY roof is going to learn to take responsibility for their actions."

Like a broken record, Dylan groaned again at that. Of course, his foster parent had to be that type of foster parent. The type that wanted him to "learn his lesson" like that was somehow such a big deal. Through his somewhat-bitterness, Dylan paused a moment, thinking of what happened the night before. "I'm... I'm sorry about last night," Dylan replied. "I know that was kinda a pain in the neck."

Ratchet stopped as he took his morning energon cube out of his cabinet. He looked at Dylan, his optics softening. It hadn't been a pain, Ratchet knew that, just a little upsetting to see him like that, overwhelming maybe. "That wasn't a problem, Dylan. If anything I was merely concerned for you," He told him honestly. "I haven't seen anyone react so horribly to... A situation," He then added. "Mostly because I admittedly have never met someone in... This situation..."

"Just say it," Dylan replied. "You've never met someone who was raped, molested," He scooped up the cereal from the bowl, and ate a big mouthful. "Take your pick. I've heard it called everything, really," He explained.

Ratchet couldn't contain his cringe, the words hitting him hard. He wished they lived in a world where no child knew those words, let alone had memories of them. He instead turned his thoughts to Bumblebee again, taking a deep breath as he looked at Dylan. "Speaking of... Your situation," Ratchet explained. "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to arrange for you to meet a friend of mine from my Team Prime days," He explained. "Someone that went through the system but is closer to your age," He explained.

Dylan blinked slightly, the idea of meeting another member of Team Prime actually intriguing him. They were legends, to say the least. But what would that entitle? Who would it be, and why? "Okay," Dylan replied uncertainly. "Who are they?"

Ratchet smiled slightly, relieved that Dylan seemed at least seemed to be okay with the idea. He took a sip of his energon, and locked eye contact with the boy. "His name is Bumblebee. And he's a very good mech, if you're wondering," He told him calmly. "I think you'll like him a lot. Most younglings do, Primus, most mechs and femmes do too."

Dylan seemed to think about it for a long moment, but then nodded. He wasn't sure if he was okay with it because he didn't want to upset Ratchet, or because of the intrigue he felt. But, at least for the moment, he felt that he probably was better off at least trying. "Well, if he'll meet me... I guess I don't mind," Dylan told him finally, then thought about it. "You'll... Be there though, right?"

"If you want me there, yes," Ratchet nodded. "I'll go and call him while you finish supplementing yourself. Then I'm going to need you to get washed up and dressed," He then added. "I saw the state of the clothes you came back with. And I insist on taking you to get some new ones."

New? Dylan nearly choked on his cereal at that, no one had ever offered to buy him new clothes. Everything was hand-me-downs, but this, this actually caused him to get a little excited. The thoughts swirled around in his head as Ratchet left to go call Bumblebee. Was he actually getting excited? Really? He hadn't felt that feeling in a while, and it almost felt foreign to his body.

But as he began to finish his food, he let himself feel it, at least for a change. With any luck, this time, he wouldn't be disappointed.

...

A/N: Woo, that one was a bit hard to write to be honest. I had to make sure I got it just perfect. But yes, for those asking about the other members of Team Prime, this does mean they'll be coming around soon. :)


	7. Small Breakthroughs

A/N: Thanks again to my beta **TFPKOFANGIRL** for her work beta-ing this chapter!

To the Guest Who reviewed I Will Never Desert You: I'm hoping given your comments you are following this fic. But rest assured, I am NOT canceling it. It's just on hold for the moment. :)

...

 **CHAPTER 7**  
 **Small Breakthroughs**

Dylan had never been clothes shopping for himself in his life, so actually doing it was a real treat. Ratchet recognized that he was a teenager, and therefore let him pick out his own clothing. They went through multiple departments in the large store he'd taken Dylan to. Where Dylan more focused on his everyday look, Ratchet helped him out with buying some dress clothing for occasions such as Optimus's upcoming visit. And together, they mad a pretty good team.

Ratchet had even allowed him to wear one of his outfits out, with the permission of the store. So for once, as Dylan checked out, he felt like a normal kid. In jeans that fit him, but were nice and baggy, a nice, red t-shirt with a logo on it, and a brand new black hoodie with grey stripes that wasn't too small for him. When he came out however, Ratchet looked over his hair, and suggested they complete his new look with a haircut.

Dylan had to admit, he didn't mind the idea. The last time he had had one was months ago, and it was starting to get too long anyway. So he allowed Ratchet to drag him to the hair salon downstairs, and let them work without complaint. Dylan had jokingly suggested a mohawk, but Ratchet had quickly turned him down. So he'd went for a simple, short haircut that he could spike in the front. He'd never had it cut this way, but from the picture he'd been shown it looked nice, and different.

And so did he when he looked at himself in the mirror. Dressed up in new clothes, with this brand new, "cool" haircut. Dylan almost had to do a double take at that, almost had to wonder if he really was looking at himself. He looked at Ratchet, who had subspaced the rest of their purchases as they exited the shop. "Ratchet, I'll uh, pay you back. I don't know how yet, but when I'm old enough to get a job-." He began.

"Nonsense," Ratchet replied with a shake of his head. "I did this of my own free will. And you look good kiddo," He told him with a gentle honesty. "You're going to look sharp from now on my boy. And with any luck maybe that can build some confidence," He smiled.

Elated, Dylan actually formed a smile on his face at that. He really did, in a way feel like a whole new kid, even if his personality, and traumas were the same. But he supposed that was what a makeover did for you - if this is what counted as a makeover. "Thank you," Dylan told him, this time loud enough for him to hear without listening closely. "For everything."

Ratchet smiled, his optics lowering to him as he gave a thumbs up. "Hey, no need for thanks it was my pleasure," Ratchet told him honestly. "Shopping for clothes is probably not my ideal day off. But I was happy to see you smile for a chance, mechling," He added.

"But there is," Dylan replied. "No one's ever taken me... Y'know, shopping like that before," He explained. "Everything I wanted I had to buy myself. Or get from hand-me-downs," He admitted. "Next thing I know you're going to tell me you got me a new backpack too."

"I might have done that while you were having a haircut," Ratchet explained. "And more school supplies too. I might have snooped to see how well they were doing. And it occurred to me that you were running low," He explained.

Dylan caught Ratchet's wink, rubbing the back of his hair slightly. He couldn't believe it, but it almost made him look forward to school. A day ago he figured he'd be going to school in a nicer part of town in hand-me-downs and a ratty backpack. But tomorrow, well tomorrow could be the start of something new when he walked in with nicer clothes, and a fresh backpack. And for a moment, he wondered if that's what Ratchet thought too, that it may make him feel more confident. If he had, he noted, Ratchet was really the first person that even cared.

And though Dylan wouldn't say it, wouldn't hint at it, it meant a lot to him that he cared enough to do everything. The thank you didn't even begin to cover it, even if he wasn't one-hundred percent sure the mech could be trusted yet. But he had to admit, the more Ratchet did for him, the more genuine he seemed. And for his part, Dylan still had a smile on his face, something that was a rare occurrence for him. He felt like he supposed most kids would smile at getting a new video game console, or movie, really. And as weird as it may have looked to those kids, he didn't care.

They walked for a good five minutes before Ratchet took a call. Dylan didn't pay much attention to what it was about, but he really didn't have to. Especially not because a few minutes later, he looked at Dylan. "Well Bumblebee says he's clear for tonight. So we're having him as a dinner guest," Ratchet told him. "I hope you won't mind. He's really excited to meet you," He added.

"I doubt that last part," Dylan snorted. "But no, I don't mind."

Ratchet didn't comment about that, figuring he wouldn't believe him if he said Bumblebee actually was excited. It was just the way Bumblebee was, as Dylan would learn. He'd always liked kids, and that was definitely not going to change. He watched as Dylan's eyes lingered on the shops instead, his eyes scanning everything. "See anything else you'd like to check out before we head out?" Ratchet asked.

"No," Dylan said quickly, his voice shaky. "I was just looking around. You got me more than enough."

Ratchet knew that was true, but he could notice the fear in his voice. Was he scared to even think about going anywhere else, even to browse? "I wouldn't mind letting you look around," Ratchet stopped, to which Dylan barely followed suit. "We're supposed to be bonding here, youngling."

Dylan put his hands into his hoodie's pockets nervously. But after a moment, made his way towards a shop that Ratchet was surprised by. An art shop, or what seemed to be a hobby shop for artists at least. Up until that moment he'd always thought that Dylan tagged because he was being rebellious. But could it be that the boy actually had a creative mindset? Perhaps that of an artist? "You know you can't go tagging while under my roof," Ratchet told him calmly.

"I know," Dylan replied. "But I like doing art, even if it's "bad". I mean, I know the art they do with this stuff is different. I guess it's just always intrigued me," He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

Ratchet looked over the art supplies, perhaps this might have been another good idea for Dylan. A solution for his issues with tagging, to show Dylan another form of art that he could do to express himself. "Well, if you want to learn, I'll buy you supplies," Dylan's eyes stared up at him. "But you have to swear to me that you won't use the supplies on anything but canvas. If you really want to learn to do proper art, then you're going to learn," He added firmly.

Dylan stared blankly at Ratchet for a moment, chewing his lip. After a long moment, he shook his head honestly, and turned away. "No, no... I really don't need that, I'd probably suck anyway," Dylan replied. "People hate my graffiti, so why would anyone like what I painted?"

"Because I've seen the things you've done with graffiti, Dylan. While it's not good to do to any sight or person," Ratchet looked at him. "You seemed to be very artistically gifted. And if you ask me, I believe that it's time you honed your artistic skills in a healthy fashion," He told him honestly. "If you did there's no telling what you might be able to create," He explained.

Dylan couldn't believe what Ratchet had just said. He thought he had... Talent? That was a new one, he thought. Most people saw nothing but graffiti, but for Ratchet to say that, he must have seen some art in what he did. He rubbed his arm and looked over at the art supply store again. He really did want to learn, some part of him, however small, had always wanted to learn to paint the kinds of pictures that hung in art galleries.

"You really think I have the talent to do that?" Dylan asked quietly.

Ratchet nodded his head vigorously, hoping that his encouragement was helping. "I think you're extremely talented, though I was not happy when I saw it," He explained. "And it would be a shame to let that talent go to waste. Believe me, Dylan, it'd be rewarding."

Dylan continued to stare at the art supply store window for a long, hard moment before making his decision.

...

They arrived home, placing the new clothes where they belonged, and putting the others into a box to give to charity. Since they still had to start on his new room that week, Ratchet helped him carefully put his new art supplies in a corner of his temporary room. A corner that, by all accounts, was wide enough to give him room to paint if he decided to start soon. Dylan had to admit, between the new clothes, and the art supplies, he was beginning to get more excited to move into a new room too. Maybe Ratchet would even let him have a say in his new furniture, though he didn't get his hopes up.

It had been a long time since he'd felt this good about an outing with a foster family. The only other time had been his first few foster homes, back when he was a small child. He'd never really trusted his foster families then either, especially not the men, but he was young enough to keep some ignorance until he was six. That had changed in his third home, the first physically abusive foster home he'd been in (out of three), and he realized that he couldn't be ignorant. That there were other evil people out there, even if they weren't abusive in the way his father was.

But none of them did what Ratchet did, in fact, no foster family really had either. It was weird, but Dylan thought, even for a fleeting moment that day, that maybe, just maybe... This could make a good home if things continued the way it did. But would it? He wasn't sure, he really wasn't. Ratchet wasn't part of his species, and though he knew that in the grand scheme of things it didn't matter, especially not now... Well, what would happen if Ratchet decided it did matter? Or any number of things?

Even if it was a defensive thought he'd gotten after years of disappointment, was he wrong to? As he thought of this, he stepped out and made his way towards living room where he knew Ratchet was. Sure enough, he was there, watching a medical show on the television. He watched for a moment before making his way towards the mech, and tilting to take a look at the show. "Oh, would you like to come watch TV?" Ratchet asked calmly. "We can change it to something else. I'm aware most people dislike my choices. I'm not much for action or drama, I got enough of that to last eons," He added.

Dylan didn't know how to respond, but after a long moment, shook his head. He let the mech pick him up and set him beside his leg though, considering he couldn't get onto the couch on his own. He held back telling the mech how much that annoyed him, now wasn't the time. "Nah, it's cool, I don't know many TV Shows," Dylan admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "As long as you don't watch crime shows though. That kind of stuff grosses me out," He added.

And though he wouldn't point it out, they triggered some of his flashbacks as well. But by the look in Ratchet's optics, he really didn't need to say anything. He smiled slightly, and turned a channel before continuing down the list of channels and finding something they could meet in the middle with. Namely the show HOUSE, which was over a hundred years old, but playing on some oldies channel. Dylan noticed within moments that Ratchet was really into. "Funny, this was who First Aid said you were like," Ratchet's optics widened. "Is this really what your bedside manner is like?"

Ratchet looked ready to blow a gasket, clearly not liking the comparison. He grumbled something, leaned back, and frowned, as if to make the point. "How would you even know what this was? Over a century before you were born," He grumbled under his breath slightly. "No my bedside manner is NOT like that!" He stated, a little more loudly than Dylan expected. "Which reminds me, when was the last time you had a medical examination?" He asked.

"Oh no, you're not doing an at-home medical examination," Dylan groaned. "The fact my foster dad is going to be my pediatrician I'm guessing probably is bad enough."

The mech snorted, the boy had better believe he would be his doctor from here on out. Sure, there were plenty of mechs he would trust to look over Dylan, but what was the point? This was his ward now, and being in the hands of a medic had to be good for something. "Of course I'm going to be your doctor. You're my foster creation," He shook his head. "But I'll have you know, it's a blessing. As I'll know what to do for you when you're sick, or hurt," He added calmly. "Now, I repeat, when was your last medical check-up?"

"I don't know, four months ago?" Dylan asked.

"You had me at I don't know, I'll give you one tomorrow after school," Ratchet told him, his optics looking down upon him with a firm nod. "I'll put you in my schedule... Done," Another quiet groan, but Ratchet wasn't having it, if Dylan was living under his roof, he would be in good health. "Don't worry, it should be relatively easy. You don't have any medical issues outside of trauma, do you?" He asked.

Dylan shrugged silently, looking down at the ground. "Not that anyone's told me. Mostly it's just... Flashbacks, nightmares," He shuddered silently. "Then my disability, but you know all about my NLD," He shook his head slightly, thinking. "I guess the world thought I had enough problems with all of that. So they gave me a break with medical issues," He told him, making a small attempt at a joke.

Indeed, Ratchet thought, the boy had enough things to categorize him as "special needs" without that. But he'd still double check for any problems, of course, just to be sure. He shook his head slowly, and looked at him calmly. "Let's move onto something less sad," Ratchet replied finally, his optics looking over at Dylan. "Tomorrow you'll be going to school with the son of another member of my old team."

Dylan's eyes shot up, surprise in them. "Another member of Team Prime adopted?"

Ratchet nodded, indeed they had. Bulkhead hadn't really planned on it, or having kids for that matter. But Ratchet had been there when he'd found the young sparkling digging around in his trash for a meal. That had been years ago now, he'd gotten his sparkling when he was about five, and now he was only a year old older than Dylan. "Yes, his name is Shawn," Ratchet explained. "He was adopted by my friend Bulkhead, and he's in your grade. We talked while you were in your room, and he'll be meeting you outside the school when I drop you off," He nodded. "I want you to stick by him, he'll be showing you around the school."

Dylan crossed his arms, so he wasn't the only person with a member of Team Prime as a parent. Maybe this boy, Shawn, could even give him an idea of what to expect, he figured. "Alright," He shifted in his seated position calmly. "As long as he isn't a judgmental jerk I can handle him," Ratchet looked a bit offended at that. "What? You can't look at me and say this school doesn't have jerks. It's high school, there's plenty of them."

"Do you ever just try and put your trust in anyone?"

"Would you?" Dylan asked honestly.

Ratchet supposed that after all that Dylan had been through in his life, he wouldn't either. It was a miracle that he seemed to even slightly trust him as it was. And even then, it was only the first step of many towards the family Ratchet was inwardly hoping that they could become.

...

Dylan liked the aura that seemed to reverberate off of Ratchet's friend, Bumblebee, right away. The smaller yellow mech entered the home with the biggest smile on his face that Dylan had ever seen, and a friendly set of soft optics as well. For some reason, and Dylan couldn't touch on it, the mech just seemed to be nicer than most he'd run into. "So you're this Bumblebee Ratchet said I should meet," Dylan commented as he approached the living room calmly, trying to keep a tough shell up as he usually did. "Well the name certainly fits with the racing stripes," He noted.

"If I had a credit for every time I heard that," Bumblebee chuckled. "Yeah, that's me and you must be Dylan. Who am I kidding, you have to be. Who else would live with a grump like Ratchet willingly?" He teased, only to receive a gentle swat for that. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you kiddo. I've heard a bit about you from Ratchet already," He added.

Dylan wasn't sure how to take that. Had Ratchet told him good things? Or had he, like most of his foster parents, told him he was a pain in the neck? He put his hands in his pockets, and looked up at Bumblebee defiantly, just in case. "Yeah, what did he tell you?" He asked as Ratchet went back into the kitchen.

Bumblebee shrugged, seating himself down. Dylan tried his best to read the mech, and found... Nothing mean, nothing nasty, rather he was simply smiling. Was that normal with Bumblebee? In a way it made him uncomfortable, but at the same time made the mech far less intimidating. "Well, he told me that you could help me with a little something for starters," Bumblebee stated, and Dylan raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, what did you have in mind?"

Bumblebee smirked a little, and for a moment, Dylan's body tensed up on all levels. He didn't like where this was going, and he surprised himself when he thought of running to Ratchet. "Well, you see, I hear that you are pretty good with paint," Dylan's eyes widened. "And we're doing this race for charity down at this family owned race track nearby. I've known the family for years... But, it's kind of a small track, and they don't have a ton of money," Dylan blinked. "They're looking for artists and they're looking for suggestions. Now I know a few artists, but they have a history with the one I had in mind, Suntreaker..."

"I don't design stuff like that," Dylan commented. "I'm gonna start trying, but I don't know."

"No! But that's the thing! I thought something graffiti style could actually be cool," Dylan raised an eyebrow at Bumblebee as he began to explain his thoughts. "I don't know, maybe it could draw in a younger crowd. I mean, plenty of adults like it, and some kids. But if it has a sort of edgy vibe on the flyers and posters, maybe it'd be even more kids," He added.

Dylan didn't know what to think about that, though he supposed that the mech would know better than he would. Plus the idea to do his natural art, even if he didn't do it the usual way did sound tempting. "Alright, I guess I could help," Dylan replied honestly. "But I can't promise how good it will be on canvas. I just know that I was pretty good on the side of walls, and on cars and stuff..."

"So I heard, were you the one I heard tagged Ratchet?" Dylan nodded hesitantly. "Oh wow, that's sick! I really need to introduce you to my friends, the twins. They would get a kick out of you," The boy looked surprised at the fact the young mech found it a riot, but still managed to smile. "I'd actually kill to see what technique you used to pull it off too, the ole doc bot's a notoriously light recharger."

Dylan's smile seemed to grow, after all, Bumblebee was speaking his language. And as far as he could see, Ratchet noticed that perhaps, Dylan looked a fraction more comfortable around the mech. "It was really nothing," Dylan finally spoke up. "I just work fast, my record for tagging an Autobot is about ten minutes. I had Ratchet done in about thirteen though," He told him.

"Whoa kid, that takes skill to do on a sentient robot," Bumblebee laughed. "Though I probably shouldn't be encouraging this. I'm kind of an enforcer the same as Prowl," Dylan's brow furrowed a bit as he looked up at Bumblebee. "It's cool though, I did some pretty crazy stuff at your age too. Once I even pulled a prank on a whole group of enforcers in Kaon. It was pretty sick," He added.

And then Dylan seemed to light up again before Ratchet's optics. He watched from a distance as the mech and the boy chattered away, talking calmly. But none to Ratchet's surprise, the boy was keeping a good distance from Bumblebee, likely not softened enough to trust a strange mech closer to him. He watched as Dylan looked over at him, as if nervous, or perhaps wanting him nearby now. And in a way that warmed his spark if that was the latter, the thought that perhaps he was starting to trust him even a little.

So he grabbed the energon cubes, and let his holoform grab Dylan's dinner, making his way inside. "For sure, I can totally help you out," Bumblebee spoke as he came inside, taking the Energon Cube from his friend. "As long as the doc bot's cool with it," He added.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "Okay with what?"

"Dylan here's a skater apparently," Bumblebee told him. "But he doesn't know the skate park on this side of town. I know the kids there pretty well from my rounds. So I figured I'd take him down after school sometime and show him," He then added. "If that's okay with you?"

Ratchet was surprised, Dylan was okay with going alone with Bumblebee? He looked at the boy, who seemed to be shying away a bit, and nodded. "If he'd like that, I don't see why not," Ratchet replied honestly. "As long as you stay safe, of course. I know that so-called "extreme sports" like that can be dangerous."

"O-Okay," Dylan replied. "But it won't be for a little bit. Bumblebee says he wants us to get to know each other first," He explained. "Said he wants me comfortable around him first."

Ratchet gave a "thank you" Bumblebee's way for that. Knowing that Bumblebee was being gentle with Dylan's past meant quite a bit. As did the fact that, at this point, he wanted to spend time with Dylan. And perhaps, in time, he really would become the friend Dylan needed. "Well you're welcome over any time you want to spend time," Ratchet explained. "I think it would be good for Dylan."

And from the small smile, it seemed Dylan might have agreed.

...

A/N: I know the meeting with Bee was a little short. But he'll show up more, so don't worry! Next chapter, Dylan gets a feel of his new school. :)


	8. First Day

A/N: Wow! My awesome beta got both my chapters done! So a big round of applause to **TFPKOFANGIRL** for being awesome as always and her work on these two chapters!

...

 **CHAPTER 8**  
 **First Day**

Even if Dylan wouldn't admit it, he was scared to start at a new school. It wasn't that he had any attachments to the old school, of course, he'd tried to stay away from making bonds. But it was always a scary thing, going to a new school, where he knew no one. Well, that wasn't true, he supposed he'd know this kid Shawn he was supposed to meet. But the thought of that was a problem itself. He'd probably been tossed on this kid, who probably had his own friends, and his own classes to deal with without him. He probably would get tired of him quickly, just as most kids his age did.

But Ratchet didn't give him a choice of leaving, not at all. In fact, he was right there beside him as they entered the school, approaching the office. The school was bigger, and nicer than Dylan's old one, the type of public school that a parent would want to send their child to, unlike his last one. And that was already an improvement, considering he hated his last school, which had looked like it could have fallen apart at any moment, and reeked.

"You'll do fine here," Ratchet offered as they walked down the hallway. "This is a much nicer high school than yours. And you'll find that they will be very understanding of your disabilities," Dylan opened his mouth to protest. "I know you need the extra help in math, at least. You'll thank me for talking about them later," He explained.

Great, Dylan thought, it was a good thing he'd get extra time and stuff probably. But the thought that other kids in school would know about his disability. It was bad enough that they were all going to figure out that he was a foster kid relatively fast! He held the strap of his backpack tightly as they entered the office to the school, where Ratchet activated his holoform, so they could walk up to the human side main desk together.

The human sitting there gave a look up to them, and a bright smile. Dylan couldn't tell if it was fake or not, but he still kept his eyes anywhere else. "Hello there," The woman spoke politely. "How can I help you today?"

"Yes, we were just here to pick up my son's schedule. It should be under Dylan Elijah Logan."

Dylan's eyes shot up, had Ratchet just called him his son? Without a "foster" attached to it? It shocked him even more than the fact that he knew his full name at all. He tried not to show the way his eyes lit up when he called him his son, but all the same, it did show a bit. "Oh! Of course, the new student," She smiled, nodding her head as she went to the back to grab a file. "Ninth grade, right?" She got a nod in response. "Alright, here we go, Dylan Logan," She nodded as she came back, handing him a paper. "Looks like your first class of the day is English with Mr. Franks, he's on the second floor, classroom 14B."

Dylan nodded with a quiet "Thank you." before turning and starting for the door. He was expecting Ratchet to leave then, but the mech lingered as they walked out of the room. "Alright, you heard her. Now Shawn is going to meet you near the gym to show you around. Which is why you're here a half an hour early," Ratchet looked at him. "Are you nervous?"

Dylan frowned, what did he care? But still, caught himself before doing it long, and slowly nodded his head. After all, he was definitely nervous, he always was when this happened. "How can I not be? This is my eleventh school," Dylan commented with a sigh. "And this time you aren't giving me a choice in keeping my head down and keeping quiet. And I'm not exactly good at being, y'know, social," He muttered.

"Well you already know one person other than Shawn here. At least in a pleasant way," Ratchet explained, Dylan raised an eyebrow at him. "Scarlet attends school here as well. So see? You don't need to go it alone anyway. No reason to keep your head down," Dylan grimaced a little, looking at the ground. "You know, you aren't tough to get along with when you're not putting on a mask. Be yourself, and you'll have no problems making more friends," He added.

Dylan tried to hide the fact he didn't want to make friends. He figured he had a few months at the best with Ratchet, and any friend he'd make he'd have to leave anyway. He didn't want to go through that again, but he was being forced into it by Ratchet, and he wasn't sure how much he liked it. "Yeah, and what happens if I have to leave them to go to the next school?" Dylan asked honestly. "It'll have been for nothing."

Ratchet stared at him for a long moment, as if stunned that he had asked him. But instead of getting angry, Ratchet crouched low, making sure Dylan could look him in the optics. "Dylan, there isn't going to be another school if I can help it. Just like there isn't going to be another home," He told him honestly. "If you leave my home, it will be by your own choice. But I made a promise I will not give up on you, and I'm sticking to it."

Dylan felt a knot in his throat, Ratchet had meant that? He was actually going to try to stick with him? Dylan crossed his arms silently, hiding a ghost of a smile as he looked at the older mech. No one had ever tried this hard for him before, no one had even said things like this before. "If you say so," He managed to say, his voice strained a bit, as he tried to figure out how to react. "I guess I could give them a chance."

"That's all I'm asking from you," Ratchet replied honestly. "Now go on, I have work, and you have someone to meet," He added. "I'll be here to pick you up at two, and if I'm caught up with something, First Aid will be here."

"Alright."

Dylan had started off down the hallway when the medic's voice spoke again. "And Dylan?" Dylan looked back towards him quietly. "Have a good day, youngling. I happen to know you're a sharp one, so I doubt you'll have trouble," He explained. "But, if you have any concerns, tell me once we see each other again, will you?"

Dylan paused for a long moment, still taking in how much Ratchet cared. Then nodded his head carefully, and started off further down the hallway.

...

"Hey! You must be Dylan."

Dylan quietly took in the boy he assumed to be Shawn. He was taller than him by a few inches, with slicked back blonde hair, and bright green eyes. And for a moment, he had to take in how muscular, and tough looking he was. Dylan got the feeling right off the bat from that and his letterman's jacket that he must have been a jock. "Yeah, that's me," Dylan managed. "Are you Shawn?"

"That's me!" Shawn replied brightly. "It's nice to finally meet you," He said as he held his hand out for a shake, which Dylan took with great hesitation. "So my dad says you're Ratchet's kid, right?" Dylan decided to nod, just going with it for the moment. "Wow, that must be interesting. Living with ole Ratchet the Hatchet."

Dylan raised an eyebrow at that comment, what was that? A nickname of some sort? Either way, he shrugged, given he didn't know much about what living with him was like yet. "I guess it's quite an experience," Dylan replied. "Going from my "warden" to my foster father," He explained. "But he doesn't seem as bad as other families," He muttered. "So what's with the nickname?"

Shawn laughed slightly, as if surprised he hadn't heard a thing about that. Was this some big deal? What did this guy expect from him, since he'd only been in his home a few days. "Aw, the twin's taught me that nickname," Shawn explained. "It goes with his bedside manner. Have you had to see him for a check-up yet?" Dylan shook his head. "Oh boy, you'll see why."

Dylan didn't know if he should be afraid, or amused, but forced a smile. Shawn put his hands in his pockets, looking the boy in the eyes. "So, dad says you're from Oregon?" Dylan nodded. "Cool, I've never lived outside of Jasper myself. I was born here, and lived on the streets here, so," He shrugged. "You'll have to tell me some stories about that. I always like hearing stories about states I haven't been to," He added.

"You been to many?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah, dad's job lets him travel. And I usually go with him," Shawn shrugged his shoulders. "He works building Autobot bases and stuff. So whenever they need a new one, we go to the town and all," He looked at Dylan calmly, and nodded. "You'll meet him soon I think. When Prime comes into town next week we'll all probably meet up," He added.

Dylan froze, Optimus Prime was coming here? And he was going to meet him? While he didn't hero worship him like most kids, the thought of meeting the leader of the Autobots was nerve-wracking for a kid like him. "Optimus Prime is coming here?" Dylan asked as the lump in his throat began to form. "Ratchet would be crazy to take me to meet him. That's like taking me to meet the president. I'd screw up, royally," He admitted.

Shawn gave him an understanding look, and Dylan was getting the feeling he did understand. He was adopted too, after all, and maybe he was adopted when he was a little older. "When I was five I met him for the first time, and I'd spent almost my entire life on the streets," Shawn told him. "But Optimus isn't like that, Dylan. He's a really understanding mech."

Dylan heard that thrown around a lot about a lot of different people. But they couldn't all be nice, could they? All of Team Prime were combat veterans, and all of them still went into combat when needed. They were hard afts that didn't take anyone's crap, Ratchet had proven as much by now. "Yeah, we'll see about that. Not many people put up with me, just ask my last fifteen "families"," He shrugged. "So, he said you're supposed to show me around?"

Shawn took that as a sign that Dylan was done talking, and he was right. Really, he didn't much care to stand around talking about their guardians all day. "Right, well you come from the school on the other side of town, right?" Dylan nodded. "They're not too much different. All high school's kinda look the same around here I think," He explained. "But here, let me see your schedule," As Dylan handed it over, he scanned the classes. "Ah, English, good that's on the way to my class. Sorry to say it looks like you don't have classes with me, but I'm not surprised. You're a frehshman, I'm a sophomore."

Dylan huffed, so he was going to mostly be on his own after all. He couldn't believe he felt this way, but he did feel a little disappointed. Considering Shawn, at the moment at least, didn't seem so annoying. "It's fine. I'm usually on my own at school anyway," He replied honestly. "It's easier that way since I move from home to home."

"That sounds like it sucks," Shawn replied. "But you're friends with Scarlet Hide, right?" Dylan nodded, surprised by the response. "She hangs with my group too, and she's in your English, math, and science classes if I remember correctly," He added to which Dylan's eyes bugged. "I gotta say, you set your sights high with Scarlet if that was an indication of a crush. I wouldn't want to be on that side of Ironhide's daughter."

Dylan blinked, Ironhide? That was an Autobot name! Scarlet's parents were Autobots too? He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, considering he knew only a little about Scarlet's home life. But the idea that he hadn't heard yet, well, it surprised him. "Wait, Scarlet is an Autobot kid like you?"

"Like me, and like you too now," Shawn commented. "I'm surprised you didn't know. Ratchet and 'Hide go way back, and she was adopted from foster care, too," He explained honestly. "I thought he'd leave showing you around to her really. But then again, maybe Ironhide might have read that the wrong way. And Chromia hates it when he gets worked up," He laughed.

Scarlet had been a foster kid too? Suddenly, everything made a lot more sense to Dylan. The reason she had been so willing to accept his problems, and why she reached out to him so quickly. And here he had been, thinking Scarlet couldn't really relate and could never possibly understand him. When she probably understood him even better than someone like Shawn did. "Wow, I just... The entire time I've known her she'd never mentioned," Dylan admitted, his voice quiet. "You'd think she'd have at least brought up foster care," He replied.

"Yeah, Scar's a tough nut to crack," Shawn agreed. "You don't know a lot of us are Autobot kids unless you ask. But we're everywhere these days. Whereas we used to be a real rarity," He explained as Dylan just stared at him with continued disbelief. "And you'll find some of them have histories like yours. Going from home-to-home, never really knowing what a family was," He explained. "The Autobots were so crippled by the war in some ways it's hard for them to reproduce. So they reach out where some other parents are scared to."

Dylan never thought about that, but it made sense. The Autobots had lost their planet, and perhaps generations of their species. So why not reach out, and try to pass on their legacies through generations of humans? And maybe, if Ratchet meant all that he'd said, his bloodline would become part of that legacy. But he shook the thought away quickly, he wasn't going to stay with Ratchet, he was convinced the mech was going to dump him eventually. That he was going to go to home seventeen and this was just another stop.

But some part of him, as small as it was, hoped he was wrong.

Because truth was, he was starting to like Ratchet, as strange an emotion as that was. And if he did continue to prove he was nothing like his dad, maybe becoming his legacy wasn't such a bad idea. "Hey, you still with me?" Dylan looked over at Shawn. "Come on, I've gotta show you around still."

Dylan took the opportunity to get his mind off this, and followed without any argument.

...

It turned out that the nicer school was just as boring as the poorer school. Each class introduced Dylan, and made him introduce himself, and each time, he avoided much talk of home life. Indeed, in three of these classes, Dylan saw Scarlet, though he had not had the chance to talk to her at any point yet. She didn't seem to be avoiding him though, considering she'd shot him quite a few smiles during English.

It turned out he was a little behind in the lessons, but lucky for him, he caught on fast in all but math. So after math had finished, and lunch let in, he was thankful to get away from number problems. But instead, as he stepped inside the lunchroom with the sack lunch of "healthy foods" Ratchet had given him, he found a new problem: where to sit. When you walked in to the lunchroom on your first day, it felt like all eyes were on you because of this.

So he simply stared around, looking for the nearest empty table. Instead, he found a hand on his shoulder, and turned to find Scarlet had approached him. "So, you're going to school here now?" Dylan nodded his head nervously, a little shaky. "Wow, what happened with the Johnson's?" She asked.

"Long story," Dylan replied honestly. "But the short version is I'm living with Ratchet now."

Scarlet looked at him for a long moment, and then giggled. Like he had said something really funny. But after a moment, the laughter slowly died down, and her eyebrows raised. "Wait, you're serious?" Dylan nodded. "Okay, sorry... You living with "uncle" Ratchet is just surprising," She added. "Come have a seat with me, will you? This is one story I have to hear."

And so, she led Dylan towards an empty table, as she knew him better than most people. Likely, she knew he wasn't ready to talk about this in front of people, and would rather make him comfortable. So, in response, he trusted her with the story between eating lunch. He kept most of his details brief, and to the point, and by the time he was done, she looked dumbfounded. "Wow, just... Wow," She breathed. "That is some interesting stuff, Dyl. I mean, I knew about his past... But that's new behavior for him," She explained.

"Yeah, it was really out in left field," Dylan replied.

"Well I wouldn't say that. He'd been talking to my dad, who's an Autobot too, by the way," She began parting her hair a bit. "About how concerned he'd been becoming about you. But I didn't know he was considering anything like this," She leaned back in her seat slightly. "You're lucky, he rarely shows real emotion until you get to know him better. Let alone takes kids into his home."

Dylan paused a moment, Ratchet had talked about him to others? Had he really been that concerned about him? Dylan rubbed his forehead silently for a moment, and looked at Scarlet. "Yeah, well, it's true. Where do you think I got the new threads?" He joked as Scarlet gave a small chuckle. "You know, you were right all those days, he's not so bad. But I really don't get his deal," He explained.

"His deal?"

"Well, how old were you when you were adopted by... Was it Ironhide and Chromia?" Dylan asked. "Because most people don't jump at the chance to take in older kids like me," He admitted.

"Ah, so Shawn told you."

"Yep," Dylan replied with a nod. "So, how old?"

Scarlet was silent, taking a sip of her soda before looking at Dylan. He got the feeling she didn't like talking about her past, but Dylan knew how to break the ice there. Though he never liked it. "I got taken into care when I was five," Dylan explained. "Because my dad used to molest me," Scarlet's eyes widened. "Don't go spreading it around, okay? I'm only even telling you because I figure maybe on some level you understand me..."

Scarlet looked down for a moment, then back at Dylan. "Wow, I mean, I knew it had to be bad. But, jeez Dylan, no wonder you have a hard time trusting people," She then added. "And your secret's safe with me if you'll keep my past on the down-low too," She explained.

"So you keep it secret too?"

"I don't... Talk about it a lot, no," Scarlet replied honestly, taking in his nod as a sign she could trust him. "But I was a victim of abuse too. Nothing as bad as that... But," She twiddled with her thumbs slightly, deciding whether or not to trust him. "Before I came to live with mom and dad, when I was seven, by the way... I lived with an uncle who tried to set me on fire," She added.

"On fire?" Dylan nearly gagged.

"Among other things, yeah. I still have a scar going up my back from where he tried," She explained honestly, her voice cracking. "He did a lot of other things too... Beat me, pull my hair, make me sleep on the floor," She shook her head. "He was a cruel man."

Dylan was silent for a moment, unsure he could trust Scarlet with intimate details of his abuse. He hadn't even gotten to trusting his own guardian enough yet. But all the same, he felt as though he could confide at least a little in Scarlet. "It's alright," Dylan blinked as Scarlet put her hand on his. "You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to. I can tell you aren't ready, probably haven't even told Ratchet, right?" Dylan nodded. "It took me four years to talk to my friends about it. The fact you even said what you did surprised me."

Dylan nodded his head slowly. "So they were your first foster family?"

"I phrased that poorly," Scarlet sighed. "If you want to know, I was put in when I was three," Dylan cringed at the thought of going through what she had that early. "They were my sixth placement."

Dylan nodded, so Scarlet may have understood, really understood. Maybe it wasn't the same kind of abuse, but somehow he felt he connected with this girl. Maybe only on the same level as Ratchet, but for now, he was okay with that, the idea of having someone else he could talk to. (Along with Bumblebee if his suspicions on the reason they met was correct) "I don't know when I'll be able to open up that well," Dylan admitted. "It's one thing to admit what he did. But details are hard..."

"That's okay," Scarlet replied. "When you are, I'm sure I won't be the only person here to listen."

Dylan couldn't help but smile a little at that. And not for the first time, he hoped he might stay around here a little longer than the other placements.

...

"So, how was school?"

Dylan was thankful that the voice had sounded out, or he might not have noticed Ratchet was actually there. He stopped in his tracks, and looked at the emergency vehicle with a look of surprise. Most foster parents made him take the bus, or sent someone to pick him up, or had an older foster kid drive them both home. But actually showing up themselves? He could only count about a handful of them. And now, Ratchet made around six of them. "You actually showed up?" Dylan asked.

"You say that like it's a surprise," Ratchet noted, popping the door open for Dylan. "Of course I showed up, I pitched a fit at them when they tried to keep me there," He told him bluntly. "Now get inside, youngling, and tell me how your day went."

Dylan wondered if he cared, or just wanted to make sure he had actually been in school. But all the same, he got inside, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. No one really asked how his day was, so he wasn't sure how to reply to that. "It was, interesting," Dylan didn't know if he should bring up Scarlet, so he decided not to. "Really different though. I mean the classes and all were the same. But I didn't feel like I had to watch my back as much," He admitted.

Ratchet could imagine so, not all "poorer" areas in town were bad. And this one wasn't either, really. But the school that was shared by it and a small fraction of the middle class kids (Dylan included given the family he had lived with) was known as being a hub for troublemakers and gangs. And though Dylan did cause trouble, he didn't cross him as one either, so he could imagine how fearful he might have been some days. "Well that's good to hear," Ratchet replied. "Now, a quick run-through of what happens today."

"A check-up, I know," Dylan groaned. "Don't remind me."

"You might not like it, but it's going to happen," Ratchet replied in a stern voice. "After that, you're going to do homework in my office. Unless you have none, in which case," He paused a moment. "I do have a suggestion for what you might do in the meantime."

Dylan crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in response. "Alright, am I going to like this? Because I only have a few math problems," He explained, knowing even with his disability the amount he had wouldn't take more than an hour.

"Well, it depends," Ratchet explained. "On how you feel about helping out a little."

Dylan raised an eyebrow, what on Earth did Ratchet mean by that? He couldn't work at the hospital, maybe volunteer but... Oh God, no. He had enough volunteering going on with Ratchet's after-school program. "No," Dylan shook his head. "Volunteering? I do that on weekends too."

"It'd only be when you have little to no homework," Ratchet explained. "But yes, I am talking about helping out around the hospital. It would do you good to make friends with some people who work there other than First Aid and I," Dylan looked like he was going to argue, but Ratchet stopped him. "Or you can just sit in my office for then next four hours, doing nothing."

Dylan hated it when Ratchet made a point like that.


	9. Testing

A/N: Thanks again to my awesome beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her work on this chapter as always!

...

 **CHAPTER 9**  
 **Testing**

Sitting in a room, and waiting for Ratchet's inspection was actually nerve-wracking. He'd never liked visiting the doctor, which he guessed was ironic now that he lived with one. So even with the idea that Ratchet might go easy on him, it did make him nervous. "Alright," Ratchet announced as he turned to Dylan. "I take it you have a mild case of anxiety in the doctor's office," He explained.

"What makes you say that?" Dylan crossed his arms, trying to look unphased.

Ratchet gave an amused smirk that told Dylan he was indeed onto him. His guardian crossed over, and looked at Dylan with as soft of optics as he could. It wasn't normal for him to do that, but this was his ward, his foster son, and the last thing he wanted was to make him fear him. "I felt a spike in your stress levels, that's how," Ratchet explained. "But boy, I am going to be gentle so don't worry. It's only going to be a few scans, and a through inspection of your physical condition," He added.

That brought a new fear to Dylan - his scars. What would Ratchet think if he saw those? Maybe he wouldn't be surprised, not all homes in foster care were good after all. But if he saw just how far back some of them dated, back to before his foster care days... "By physical... Do you mean, my clothes?"

Ratchet figured that was coming, taking a deep breath. He shook his head, knowing that of course, that wouldn't be a part of it. But any child with Dylan's past was bound to ask that question anyway. "No of course not. I can tell from my scans if there's anything of concern there. And that would be anything fresh," He explained. "But reflexes and all will be the same. Now, relax, and stay still will you? I don't want to be doing this all day," He added.

Dylan groaned, but sat there, allowing the scans to run over him. The only point in that in which he didn't like it was when Ratchet ran a thumb carefully along his arm to check something. He inched away slightly, and at this point, Ratchet himself groaned. "Dylan, I know you don't like this. But bare with me," Ratchet told him sternly. "I am not going to hurt you, but I will strap you down if you keep doing this," He added.

That froze Dylan right there and then, the boy deciding he'd rather not have that happen. The next thing he knew, his reflexes were being tested, by far the worst thing that Dylan had experienced. Sure it only was a gentle tap to each knee, but he hated it. Lucky for him, after that, it was easy, but Ratchet was far from done yet. "Alright, so here's where you're going to have to be honest about me," Ratchet explained. "Did you contract anything... Unsavory from your father?"

"Oh my God, you did not just ask me that!"

"Co-operate," Ratchet replied bluntly. "I see what your records say but I want to be sure."

"No."

Ratchet sighed, with the attitude he was giving he could already tell this was going to be the longest part of this whole thing. He simply checked the answer off as correct on the data pad. "It says here that in your foster home about four years ago... You received a beating which put you in the hospital," He explained. "That's the last reported abuse case, but I see fresher spots..."

Dylan swallowed, at least he hadn't asked about the old ones. "I'm sure you can tell they're a year old. Before I came here I was with a drunken bastard," Dylan shrugged his shoulders slightly. "It's nothing, I haven't been hit since then. But you gotta know that not every home is great."

Ratchet tried to push back the thought that Dylan had gone through abuse in more homes. Though he knew in fifteen homes there was no way he had avoided it after all. "I'm ordering your medication that you take. The fact you have ADHD is news to me though," Dylan shrugged, but Ratchet knew that much was true. "Adderal, right?" Dylan nodded. "Now, you're not doing any drugs or drinking at the moment, are you?"

Dylan gaped at Ratchet, even if he knew it was an honest question he didn't like being asked. Though if he were going to be honest, he had once gotten into a foster father's beer stash. But thankfully, that had been once. "No, I'd rather die," Dylan replied. "I hate beer, I tried it once when one of my foster parents wasn't looking. And drugs? Crap rots your brain cells," He added.

Ratchet couldn't help but smirk at that, the boy really was smart for his age. Unlike some in his situation who might turn to alcohol and drugs, he was quick to rebuff them. "Well then, that gives me a lot of relief," Ratchet replied. "Now there's one other thing I want a look at. And I want to see it up close, because I want to be sure what it is."

Dylan knew instantly what Ratchet meant. "No! Please..."

"Dylan, I promise not to probe anywhere else."

"I said NO! You can't look at it you big tin can!"

Ratchet gawked slightly, looking at Dylan in surprise. But he quickly gained his composure, he was definitely not going to let Dylan talk to him that way. "Dylan Elijah Logan, you CANNOT talk to me that way," Ratchet roared. "I'm doing this to be sure it is nothing to worry about. It's something older, and if it's still showing up, I want to make sure it's nothing to worry about," He added. "Now lift up your shirt!"

Dylan felt tears force themselves to the surface, pain filling his eyes. He didn't want to do this as he wrapped his arms around his body. "Please Ratchet. You'll never look at me the same way again," Dylan shook his head. "PLEASE."

However, now more worried than ever, Ratchet approached. He carefully used his finger to push his t-shirt up a bit, and what he saw disturbed him. He'd expected the scars, both fresher ones, and much older, as he knew that some homes had been abusive. He'd mentally prepared himself for the possibility as disgusting and vile as it was. But it was what he hadn't expected that disgusted him the most.

A brand.

Dylan had been branded with something hot, an iron more than likely, leaving a permanent, prominent scar. The three simple letters?: "EKL", Eugene Keaton Logan. Ratchet tried not to heave, letting the shirt fall down for a moment. How could the courts overlook that and let him get a light sentence? Ratchet knew the excuses, if Dylan hadn't told them that he'd done it, what proof did they have? If Dylan hadn't reported physical, as well as sexual abuse from his father, how could they know his father did it? Initials or not.

Dylan looked like he was preparing for Ratchet to yell at him, to scream, or kick him out. But instead, Ratchet crouched low, and gently stroked Dylan's back. The boy jumped a moment, but seemed to actually stay still at the touch, at the comfort. His eyes continued to drip with tears as Ratchet quietly took a gentle tone. "I'm sorry," He told him. "That was unprofessional of me. But I was only concerned," Dylan shook a little. "I will never do that again."

Dylan looked up at him, surprised at the apology, and the kind words. The way he rubbed his back in a soothing manner, and how he never even brought the brand up. Rubbing his tears off on his arms, he nodded his head slowly. "It's okay..." He paused. "I think."

It was not to his surprise when Ratchet ended the session early.

...

Dylan didn't do the volunteering gig that day, instead opting to spend his time in Ratchet's office. Clearly, the moment that he and Ratchet had shared, as well as the revelation, had both shaken and confused him. For that reason, Ratchet didn't bother him, opting to give him time alone with his thoughts and to compose himself. They rode home in silence as well, and Ratchet was only mildly surprised when the boy went straight to his room. Ratchet was wondering to himself if that was it, if Dylan would never even put a small amount of faith in him at all anymore.

When Dylan finally came out of his bedroom, and acknowledged Ratchet, the mech was surprised at what he said. "He gave that to me a little before I got taken away," Ratchet jumped out of his plating, staring at Dylan who stood in the doorway of his office at home. "I can't tell you a lot, it's too hard. But one night I fought him... Or as well as a five year old could," He explained. "He said it was to remind me who I belonged to."

Ratchet cringed, Dylan didn't belong to anyone, at least in that way. He was not an animal, he was a sentient being, a child who should be treated as such, rather than property. Ratchet looked at his foster son with as much calm as he could muster, after all, he was angry, or rather, annoyed, at what this child had gone through. "Primus, Dylan," Ratchet managed. "And you never told a soul?" Dylan shook his head. "And now since charges of physical abuse were "proved wrong" you've got that double indemnity slag," He growled.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'd probably be just as afraid at five years old," Ratchet commented. "Never be sorry for what happened. Or for telling me. If anything, I should apologize to you for forcing you to let me see, and I am," He shook his head. "I didn't know what I'd find on your back. But I was only scared for you, I promise," He added.

Dylan looked down, rubbing the temples of his forehead gently. "I know, at least I figured it out," Dylan shook his head. "It's just... Everyone else who's seen it immediately just runs in the other direction. I thought, I figured that was it, you wouldn't want someone like that," He grunted. "I tried to avoid a mess."

Ratchet frowned, Dylan really hadn't found any understanding, had he? And perhaps, his slightly hard nature in the doctor's office hadn't helped. But he did have a rough-around-the-edges attitude that wasn't going away, no matter how hard he tried. "I might lose my temper sometimes, Dylan," He explained. "But that's because it's just... My nature. Not because you're necessarily pushing my limits," He explained. "I've always had a problem with patience when I'm rushed. Including during check-ups," He admitted.

Dylan made a mental note to remember that about Ratchet, so that he didn't cross over the line. Or maybe he wanted to, he thought. After all, he still didn't quite know just how far Ratchet could be pushed quite yet. But that would have to come later, rather than the first week. "Alright," Dylan finally spoke up. "Listen, Ratchet. I just, if this is going to work I need you to understand... There are things I don't want you to know and see for a reason," He explained. "I kept secrets because... Well, there are reasons I move from home-to-home. I have a lot of stories like that... Stories that parents don't know how to handle."

"I just want you to be aware of the fact that you can tell me anything."

Dylan closed his eyes, shaking his head a bit. "You say that because up until a few hours ago... You thought all my dad did was... Well, y'know," Dylan was so tired of using that word at the moment. "You have no idea what I went through in that house... You can't even begin to imagine it," He told him honestly.

Ratchet understood now, he understood very well. He'd been going about this the wrong way by even trying to pry into his past in that way. Dylan had to come to him, if he ever did. And as hard as that was, especially seeing Dylan in so much pain, he had to do it. "You're right," Ratchet nodded his head. "From now on I won't pry like that again," And then he added with as much firmness as he could muster. "But just know, I am here if and when you want to speak. And do know that I'm not here just to give you a roof over your head."

Dylan paused a moment, having not even considered it, but had Ratchet intended on this? Come to think of it, he had gotten him overnight, and it seemed like... "You wanted a kid didn't you? From the start?" Ratchet's optics widened, stunned that he would have caught on. "Most people who want to adopt... Might say the same thing. I figured you were okay with fostering me, but is that actually what you want your endgame to be? Adoption?"

Ratchet didn't know how to respond, not even a little. Though he supposed he should have seen this coming, maybe because of all the false promises he'd made. But he didn't want to get the boy's hopes up either. For all he knew, they'd end up not connecting at the end of the day. He did want to keep Dylan here, and he wasn't giving up on him, that much he promised. But that could mean a number of things after more time had passed for them.

"I do want a family, yes," Ratchet replied. "I think it's best we leave the "a" word out until more time has passed," He watched Dylan let out a sigh of relief, probably thankful not to have another promise that could be broken. "But if things continue the way they are? Adoption or not, I'd like you to be a part of it, if you decide it's what you want as well," He told him honestly.

That much he was certain of, after all. He liked Dylan, he was a boy with a rough past, but he needed a chance. A chance that in general not many people had given him. He took a deep breath, and replied honestly. "You should have looked somewhere else. Because what you know barely scratches the surface," Dylan replied honestly. "A lot more things happened before I went into care than things that happened while in care," He explained, his voice quiet. "Trust me."

Ratchet's spark twisted in disgust at the thought. But he didn't once waver, in fact, in a way, he wanted to help him more than ever. So many would push away a human like this, a young boy who had been through hell. While in his optics, the way he was still standing, considering all of this, made him one of the bravest young humans he'd met. But he also knew they needed a change of subject, something to get Dylan out of his "dark place" as Ratchet was dubbing it.

"Well then," Ratchet commented. "If our chat's over, I was thinking we could order in a pizza for you tonight. Then we can pull up a movie and watch if you'd like," He added.

Dylan looked as if he was surprised that his final comment hadn't scared Ratchet right off. But Ratchet didn't even waver in showing the boy that it didn't matter. That he mattered more than whatever past he'd gone through. And maybe, just maybe, after his reactions, he might start to trust him a little more. "Alright," Dylan commented. "I like sausages on my pizza, and I'll watch anything but horror movies. They give me too many nightmares," He admitted.

"That sounds good," Ratchet nodded as Dylan started back towards his room. "Dylan?" The boy stopped. "No matter what you tell me... Or how bad you think it may be. I meant what I said," He explained. "The only reason you'll leave my home is if you want to, no other reason."

For once, Dylan was starting to believe that was true.

...

Dylan wasn't sure what to make of that entire day. His mind trying to comprehend it even after the weekend had come around. By that time, his room was finally ready after the two other days he had spent doing his usual work with Ratchet's group. And to say the least, it was the closest thing to a REAL bedroom he'd ever had. It was big, and spacious, with soft blue walls and a typical metal floor. His bed was bigger, with the softest mattress, blue sheets, and white blankets he'd ever felt.

The rest of the room consisted of his regular furniture, art supplies, and a newfound desk where Ratchet had left a laptop to do his schoolwork on. Dylan had tried to convince Ratchet to let him have a television in his new room. But Ratchet knew better than to do that, as he knew by now how he procrastinated on homework. Rather opting for a large bookshelf where he could keep his books to continue reading. He was also thankful to find that the only window was too high for a human to climb in, and far from his bed, as Ratchet wanted him to feel safe.

The only non-plus he saw was there were two doors into his bedroom now. Considering this one was big enough for Ratchet to move his real form inside, after all, it did make him nervous. But Ratchet promised him that he had installed sensors to inform him if anyone other than Dylan entered the room. As well as given him a pad which controlled the lock on the Cybertronian-sized door, if any threat from a Decepticon came.

Dylan had to admit, he liked his new room, and what it signified. The fact that, at least for now, Ratchet was not going to desert him. And the fact he had taken the time to let him help in collecting this stuff made him feel a sense of individuality too. He sighed, leaning against the pillows that night, he couldn't believe he was thinking it, but the more time he spent with the mech, the more he was liking it there.

And perhaps, that strange sensation was why he laid there now, relaxing in his bed. He knew he should have been asleep by now, but for the moment, it didn't hurt him to lay awake. His mind thought over everything, rubbing the back of his head as he finally felt the desire to get out of bed. By now, Ratchet was in recharge, so he could simply walk into the living room and take a seat. Thinking things over yet again, but now, sitting up on one of the human sized chairs Ratchet had gotten, and more awake, he felt as though he could think things over more fully.

Not for the first time, Dylan felt like running away, from Ratchet, from the house, from everything. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment, this feeling of being treated like he was anything more than a piece of crap. He was scared, and not in the usual way, not the type of fear he was used to. But rather afraid of what all of this might mean for him. Would he really become part of Ratchet's family? Originally, that had seemed like wishful thinking, becoming part of any family. But then their talk had happened, and he had seemed so, well, serious.

He leaned back slightly, trying to keep himself calm as he thought about all of this. Why did Ratchet look at him with such softness? How could anyone look at him and see anything but a damaged kid who was doomed for a dark future? After a long time of thinking on it, Dylan made his choice on the matter. Or so he though, at least.

Sneaking out of the home with only a small backpack of things was easy. Ratchet's room was so far from the entry to his house that Dylan figured slipping away would be rather simple. Sure, Ratchet would probably be upset in the morning, but eventually he'd get over it. Probably even find another kid who, in Dylan's opinion, would better deserve the compassion that he was showing him. So he simply did it, he sneaked right out the front door and made his way into the night.

He'd done it a few times in other, bad foster homes. But this was the first time that Dylan felt bad about it, considering it wasn't a bad home. It was actually the opposite, and in general Dylan for the first time wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing. None-the-less, he traversed the streets of Ratchet's side of the city, which seemed a lot more intimidating in the dark, given its tall skyscrapers, and seemingly endless streets.

About an hour after starting off, however, Dylan began to really regret his decision. He'd been trying to find his way back to the part of town he knew, but he found himself cold, alone, lost, and maybe even a little scared. He could always go rogue here, he figured, take to the streets, be his own man. But another part of him knew that no matter how tough he presented himself to be he'd never able to survive on the streets.

But his only option, going back to Ratchet's home, had probably been lost about an hour ago. And so he stopped, thinking through what to do next. Did he just bring out his cell phone and call Ratchet? And if he did, what did he say? That he was scared? That he had run away due to a mix of emotions? He closed his eyes tightly, smacking himself in the head slightly with his open palm. He'd really screwed up now, no matter what he did this time, Ratchet was going to kick him out.

And then, a pair of headlights shone near him, making Dylan jump. "Dylan?" Dylan turned his head, watching as a familiar yellow and black car drove up to him. "Oh thank Primus! Slaggit kid, we've been looking for you everywhere," Dylan blinked a little. "I got a call from Ratchet on my patrol, screaming at me that you were gone. What the frag were you thinking making a run for it at this time of night?"

Dylan crossed his arms defiantly, he didn't like the tone that Bumblebee was taking with him. But inside, he also couldn't believe Ratchet had been awake enough to worry about him. How long had he known he'd been gone? How long had he been panicking? "I was fine," Dylan told the young mech. "Really, nothing happened."

"Then get in so I can make sure nothing does," Bumblebee popped open his door, beckoning him inside. "Ratchet is worried sick, and like it or not something could happen to you out here. So if you even think of running, we'll just move onto doing this the hard way," He explained.

"Yeah, yeah," Dylan threw his hands up. "Save me the third degree."

He was almost certain that Bumblebee continued to explain things to him as he got inside. But Dylan only half-paid attention, given he had heard it all before. He only came back "down to Earth" when they pulled up to Ratchet's house, and of course, his guardian was waiting for him. "I've got one tired perp for you," Bumblebee commented as Dylan stepped out, transforming behind him. "Lucky for him I found him before trouble did," He added.

"Where the pit have you been!?" Ratchet's voice was loud and angry. "Do you have any idea how much you scared me? I get up for my midnight ration and you're gone!" Dylan backed up slightly, he had never heard Ratchet so scared, and he felt his fear slowly growing. "If anything had happened to you..."

"I'm sorry, I went for some fresh air and got lost."

"With your backpack? Yeah, I really believe that," Ratchet grunted. "Thank you for finding and bringing him home, Bumblebee. I promise we will not be making this a continuing occurrence," He added. "Right Dylan?"

But when Ratchet looked at him this time, it wasn't anger, it was hope. And at that point, Dylan could tell that despite his anger, Ratchet really had been worried. He kicked up a rock on the sidewalk, and tried to look like he didn't care. After all, this was his way of testing Ratchet now. A test to see if his indifference would mean he was leaving tonight. Clearly, the act of running away wouldn't, even when it hadn't been a test it had answered a question.

"Whatever," Dylan shrugged. "Maybe if you don't want to risk the trouble, you can just send me back to social services."

Ratchet looked down at Dylan with a look that made him think that was it. This was Ratchet's limit, and it was better that he learned it now. "No, you won't be going back. Because the next time you do this? You won't be seeing the outside of our house for a week," Ratchet commented. "Right now, I'll take this as a slip-up. But the next time, I'll go out and haul your aft back here myself."

"And trust me, Dylan, you don't want that," Bumblebee shuddered. "If you think Ratchet's angry now. Wooo boy, just wait until you see him when he's the one hunting you down."

Dylan blinked, that was it? Ratchet wasn't going to threaten to kick him out? He would come looking for him himself? The boy seemed to loosen a bit, and realize he may have given Ratchet too little credit. "Yeah, alright, I'm sorry," Dylan told him honestly. "And I'm sorry for making you go out," He added. "I'll go to my room, since I know that's coming too," He added.

"Good," Ratchet added bluntly. "Get some good rest, because this conversation isn't over, young man," Dylan turned his head slightly. "We're going to have a nice, long chat about trust," Dylan felt his eyes lower to the ground. "But I will remind you of my promise, youngling. So don't even think of a "just send me back" retort. Unless you really want it," He added.

Dylan didn't reply to that, he simply made his way towards the human door. But as he did, he glanced back at Ratchet silently as he and Bumblebee talked. And ever so slowly, a smile that neither could see crossed his features. If he could handle this so well, then maybe, just maybe... He could be what Dylan needed, in time.

...

A/N: Woo, this was a hard chapter to get through. Given it was an extremely important chapter and step towards Dylan trusting Ratchet. :) I hope you all enjoyed!


	10. Meeting Prime and Progression

A/N: Another big thank you to my beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her work this chapter. Which is finally the one where Dylan and Optimus meet! :)

...

 **CHAPTER 10**  
 **Meeting Prime and Progression**

"You're making a mistake, having him stay here."

Of course, Ratchet knew why Dylan might think that way. After all, it was an interesting thought to have Optimus Prime stay in his home with Dylan in the house. Of course, it wasn't because he was ashamed of having Dylan there, but rather, it was a little risky to throw the boy right into the throng. Not because he thought Optimus would judge him, quite the opposite actually, he would be extremely soft to him and he knew it. But rather, Dylan's social anxieties may very well make this harder on the teen than it needed to be.

But by the time Dylan had come to live with him, it was far too late to change plans. And furthermore, it was too late to ask Optimus about changing them now, when he was less than an hour away. But at the moment, as Ratchet saw the worried look on the young boy's face, he wished he had changed the plans. The last thing he wanted was to bring this child any more anxieties. "It's alright, Dylan," Ratchet explained. "Optimus Prime is a good friend of mine. You have absolutely nothing to fear from him," He explained.

Dylan shifted a bit against the wall, his eyes looking to the side. He wasn't so sure how much of that was true, but he wanted to believe the stories he'd heard. He wanted to believe that Shawn and Scarlet were right and that he would be extremely friendly, and a kind house guest. But he wasn't sure what to think of it, he'd only had one experience where he'd been able to deduce his personality for himself, and who knew how correct it was.

But he didn't say anything in response to Ratchet's claim all the same. He was however thankful that, at the end of the day, Optimus was coming to meet him on a clean slate. Even if he was rich and very powerful, Optimus had a good chance of not judging Dylan like some who knew more might have. He had no time to really contemplate it further when the doorbell rang, and Ratchet quickly moved for the door. "Remember, Dylan, I want you on your best behavior," He commented over his shoulder. "Though I do not expect anything less."

Dylan didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. But still, he waited, slinking by the doorway as Ratchet carefully opened the door and he could hear chatter. Dylan knew the deep baritone voice from television, but nothing could prepare him for seeing the giant, broad shouldered, red and blue colored mech in person. Dylan felt a lump form in his throat as he stared up at Optimus Prime with weakened knees. The mech stepping into the home with a smile, and a hardy laugh in Ratchet's direction.

"Alright, take a deep breath," Dylan muttered under his breath, sighing. "He's just like any other mech you've met. Just big, and important," He added.

It took him a good minute after telling himself that to step out into the room. His hands were stuck in his jean pockets, and his eyes barely lifted up towards the mech. But that was okay, because Ratchet spoke before he could. "Well Optimus, it seems he's finally joined us," He explained. "Optimus Prime, meet Dylan Logan," He then added. "Dylan Logan, Optimus Prime."

Dylan felt the breath move through his teeth as he tried to speak up. But it was Optimus Prime who made the first move, carefully, and gently lowering himself to Dylan's level and look into his eyes. "It is a pleasure to finally have the chance to meet you," Optimus told him calmly. "Ratchet has told me a great deal about you. And it is an honor to finally have the chance to meet you."

Optimus tentatively held out a finger for Dylan to take. But to his surprise waited, without urging him at all. Instead, Dylan carefully put a hand on his finger, and let him shake it calmly. "I... I guess the honor is really all mine," Dylan explained. "Obviously I know a whole lot about you too," He explained. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Prime."

Optimus smiled gently at Dylan, shaking his head. "Please, Optimus or Prime," Optimus stood to his feet. "No son of a close friend of mine need address me so formally," There was that word again - "son" - it felt weird to hear that. "And the pleasure is all mine, young one."

Dylan was surprised that, not unlike Bumblebee he didn't feel much fear from Optimus. There was still the nerves, and the fear in the back of his mind. But he seemed so soft, and acted nicer than he had expected. "Optimus was just suggesting we might go out to lunch," Ratchet explained. "That way we can break the ice a little bit as I know how nervous you are."

Dylan looked surprised, Optimus wanted to get to know him better? Why? He wasn't his foster kid, he didn't need to get to know him at all. All he needed to do was be nice to him, and smile. "Alright," Dylan commented. "I'll go grab my jacket. But if you two want to go catch up on your own, that's cool too."

"Nonsense!" Ratchet told him. "What am I going to do, leave you out of lunch?"

"We're more than fine catching up in your presence," Optimus offered honestly. "I also recognize that Ratchet now has a sparkling to think of. You are a part of his family, and any part of his family is welcome with me," He added, nodding his head. "Go get your jacket if you need it, young one."

Dylan stared at him uncertainly, but slowly turned to go get it. Ratchet stared over at Optimus, who already had a look of deep concern for him. "You see what I've been saying," Ratchet spoke quietly. "I can't get him to trust anyone's kindness in full. He always seems to look for a catch," He explained. "Or for a lie."

"You've told me he's never had a stable or loving home," Optimus told him gently. "Nor do you even know all the details of what his biological father did to him," He added. "You need to combat his distrust and fear with patience and understanding. And I know that may be a challenge, but it's one you seem to be doing a good job meeting."

"Heh, I have you fooled," Ratchet replied honestly. "Understanding, of course I have. The boy has been through hell," He explained, his voice tight. "But patience... That's coming along harder for me. I want to know what he went through, how to help him. But he's only barley starting to let me in," He grunted. "It's hard."

He knew it would be, but not to what extent. He'd learned that over the weekend with Dylan's fear over his scars, and then his attempt at running away. The way Optimus looked at him, he knew that he understood. The Autobot leader rested his hand gently on his old friend's shoulder. "Give it time," He explained. "Trust is not earned over a few weeks. But Dylan seems to be making strides forward. And that is what matters," He explained.

Ratchet guessed that Optimus was right about that. At the very least he had started to get through to him, slowly but surely. He just wished with all his spark that he could get through to him more, and faster. But unknown to either one, they were being listened in on, silently. Dylan had hidden in order to listen to them, to understand what they were talking about. And his eyes simply moved to the ground, a million thoughts running through his head at once.

Ratchet did care, he realized, and by the sound of it, he cared quite a bit. And perhaps, in a way, that was what scared him more than anything. Because people who cared? Only ended up hurting him, or hurt by him, in the end. He didn't want either of those things, especially hearing Ratchet cared like that.

...

Dylan was surprised when rather than a nice restaurant, they went to a small cafe for lunch. Dylan felt a little weird, sitting there between the Autobot CMO and the leader like this. And who was he? A nobody, a young man that had somehow gotten under Ratchet's plating in a way he had a feeling neither of them were sure of. He rested his hand against his cheek as the two spoke, his eyes scanning around everywhere.

Of course, most eyes and optics were on Optimus, that was no surprise. But others of course fell on him, and Ratchet, which surprised him a bit. Though he guessed that some were curious to see who exactly the Prime was having lunch with. It made Dylan nervous having people staring at them, wondering what they were thinking. Probably judging him, watching his every move around the Prime. Come one, come all, see the human that Optimus Prime dared to bring to lunch!

Ratchet himself seemed to be taking notice of how uncomfortable Dylan was. As he surprisingly reached a few fingers over to stroke his back in comfort. Dylan shifted a little, but didn't mind the action as much as he thought he might. "So, Dylan," Dylan jumped as Optimus addressed him. "Ratchet tells me that you're an artist."

Dylan blushed, he was hardly an artist, and the thought of Ratchet saying he was embarrassed him. But still, he knew better than to not shrug this off as if it were no big deal. He had to look cool, he figured, to run with someone like Optimus. "I'm surprised that's what you're asking about," He found himself saying. "But I guess I'm okay. The stuff I used to do on the side of-," He caught Ratchet's warning glance as if to say "not the time". "Yeah, I'm okay."

Optimus looked at him as if knowing what he was going to say. But rather than judgement, Dylan saw some form of sympathy. Sympathy? For him? For what? He'd been the one tagging buildings and getting himself into trouble. "Okay? I don't think you're being fair with yourself saying that," Dylan's eyes looked up at Ratchet, who had only seen a handful of his drawings. "You'd do well to see the work that Dylan does, it's very impressive. Excellent enough that I'm considering getting both him and Sunstreaker together," He added.

Dylan felt like he could crawl under a rock at that. Was Ratchet actually BRAGGING about him? What was that about? He felt his cheeks turn a tomato red, as he looked at his guardian. And then he could see it, there was a hint of pride in those optics, pride he wasn't expecting. "Bumblebee told me something similar," Optimus noted. "Says that you helped him with "race track" posters for this week's race," Dylan nodded, he knew that much was true. "If they're the same ones he sent me, you do have talent. Though I'd be very curious to see your non-"Grafitti" art."

"He's working on that. And like I said, he's a natural."

Dylan couldn't believe how Ratchet continued to talk like he couldn't speak for himself. He wanted to ask him what the big idea was. Question who he was fooling with this sudden and obviously faked "pride". Or was it real? Dylan didn't know anymore, he didn't understand anymore, not after Ratchet's comments to Optimus. He tried to pull himself out of the situation, to look elsewhere, to be elsewhere in his mind as well.

Optimus Prime soon made it clear that he wasn't going to let him act that way. "You know, the more I sit here, the more I believe I recognize you," The mech spoke up, to which Dylan stared at him, swallowing at the comment. "We have met before, Dylan, haven't we?" He asked.

Dylan looked over at Ratchet, who gave him a look of his own. He was no doubt realizing the reason he secretly hadn't wanted to be put in front of Optimus. He had met the mech before, but not in a "friendly" way, then again, when was it ever? It had been so long ago, and Dylan hadn't even known who Optimus was at the time, so this was technically their first meeting for more than a passing moment.

"Yeah, we did," Dylan commented. "I still don't see why you were in Oregon... Since the state wasn't fully Autobot-friendly," He explained, his voice strained a bit. "You were there when they took my dad away, nine years ago," He explained. "When I was in the police station... You were there meeting with some friend of yours, a cop... I guess he'd just transferred there or something," He muttered. "I'm surprised you remembered that, that was so long ago... I'm not even five anymore."

Dylan tried not to look Optimus in the eyes. "We remember most things due to our memory components," Optimus explained. "I remember that day well. You came in with the barest of clothing," He explained honestly. "I still very vividly remember that night, Dylan."

Ratchet leaned back, realizing that Optimus knew more about Dylan than either had realized. He shuddered a bit, thinking that Optimus might have seen Dylan at his worst. "This was why I was scared to actually meet you. I only met you for five minutes before you left... But man, I was worried about how you'd look at me if you did remember," Dylan commented. "Between what the papers said... And what I'm like now," He admitted quietly.

Yet he had to admit, he had the same feeling he'd gotten before: that Optimus was as kind a mech as he had seemed to be that night. He'd never forget that, the first act of kindness he'd received from anyone human or Cybertronian. The holoform that put an arm around his shoulders, and let him cry, but let him know that things would be okay. He hadn't even known him, or his situation, but he'd gone out of his way to comfort a young human who'd just been saved from the only, disgusting life he'd ever known. He'd only been told after he was leaving, the whole thing was whispered to him loudly enough that Dylan had heard that much.

But here he was, not judging him, not even a little. Not looking at him like he hadn't taken his second chance at life in stride, but rather fought the system. It really was something that Dylan wasn't expecting from someone in as big a standing as Optimus. "I remember that day well... And I have wondered at times what happened to that boy, as I had forgotten the name," Optimus explained honestly. "I am sorry to see the life you lead after that evening was rough. But I am thankful to see you have ended up in better hands," He paused after a long moment. "And if you are worried what I think about the young man you have become... The past is the past to me. Your present is all that matters."

"I hope it's not too late to thank you," Dylan muttered. "You didn't know it at the time, but that was the first time anyone... And I do mean anyone treated me like anything other than crap," He explained. "So ummm thanks," He added.

Ratchet's optics softened at that, that small display was the first kindness of any kind Dylan had seen? "You're most welcome," Optimus replied. "Now that we have "broken the ice" as you humans say. I hope you can put your faith in me that I will not judge you," He paused. "I was around at the time your father was caught, as you know. I know just as much as anyone in that town did. And I do not, and will not judge you."

"Alright," Dylan managed. "I'll try to loosen up."

Ratchet leaned back in his seat, almost jealous of the way Optimus handled things like this. But at the same time, he knew that Optimus had made an impact on his life in some way. And Optimus was only on the same level as he was in that respect, given he had made a huge impact on Dylan too.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the key.

...

Dylan was thankful to be home and away from the public eye not long after. And frankly, Ratchet was too. After their lunch, Optimus had to excuse himself for a meeting. Leaving them at home for the remainder of the afternoon, and helping Dylan to relax a little bit. To Ratchet's surprise, yet again, the boy was the one to initiate a conversation. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you we'd met. I figured he'd forget," Dylan explained. "You... Well you know as much as he does anyway. You said you read the papers."

Ratchet paused a moment, looking down from his data pad. He knew that was true, Dylan and Optimus at least didn't have some bigger secret from him. "I understand," Ratchet nodded his head slightly. "Your worry was not unfounded. Though Optimus is a kind mech as you have learned."

Dylan nodded his head, leaning back slightly as he thought everything through in his head. Did he go into the full reasoning of why he was worried? For that matter, would Ratchet be okay with hearing it? "I was more scared that I'd say something to screw this up," He told him honestly. "I know you say you aren't going to kick me out and I want to believe you," He explained. "Truth is, I like living here."

Ratchet could have been knocked over by a feather. Dylan liked living with him? Had the boy just admitted that? And his stress levels had spiked only after he'd said it, so it seemed to be he was telling the truth. "And I like having you here. Even with that attitude of yours," Dylan looked very surprised at that. "What? You don't think you're here for my mental health, do you? Having a child is stressful, and time consuming. You're here because I like you," He explained. "And your company is something I enjoy."

"You enjoy my company?" Dylan asked, laughing. "Why?"

Ratchet gave the boy a look, as if not understanding why HE didn't get it. But he simply set down the data pad on a counter to give him his full attention. "Well, for one, it's helped with my loneliness, that's for sure," Ratchet explained. "On the other hand, I enjoy the chats we have. Even if some of them are difficult ones, it feels good to pass my knowledge on to someone else," He admitted evenly. "And thirdly, pit, I just like you kid. Do I need a reason to? You're a better sparkling than you give yourself credit for."

Dylan managed a small smile at that, though a part of him wondered how true that was. And yet, maybe Ratchet did enjoy his company, it would sure explain some things. He kicked the ground slightly, but looking up at Ratchet. "Wow I expected a different reaction," Dylan admitted. "I didn't realize you were... Serious."

"That's because you've been in the company of the wrong people," Ratchet explained. "That's what I've been trying to show you the last few weeks. To put you in the company of those that can show you the whole world isn't horrible," Dylan's eyes flicked to the side, could Ratchet read him that well? "I was starting to think it was doing nothing. But I can see that you were simply hiding your feelings too well."

Dylan couldn't believe he was saying it, but Ratchet was right. He was not yet fully trusting anyone, that was going to take time. But he hadn't lied, he was starting to like living with Ratchet a lot. He made him feel like he wasn't just a waste of space, or something to be used... He made him feel something that Dylan could not yet describe, but that still existed.

What he going to do about it was the question. Was he going to give in to this new feeling? Try and trust the word of those that were now in his life more than the voice of his father that ran around in his head? He looked up at Ratchet, his eyes locking with the mech's optics. And after a few long, hard moments, he slowly approached Ratchet. "I'm starting to think maybe you're right," Dylan breathed out. "Thank you... For showing me that."

It was the step in the right direction that Ratchet had been waiting for. "You're welcome," He began. "This doesn't mean I'm expecting your full trust. Or for how you see the world to change overnight," He told the youngling, knowing what he would say next. "But I'm glad you are at the very least opening your eyes, however slowly to the fact I care... We care."

"I don't know when I'll ever get that way," Dylan admitted.

"I know," Ratchet told him honestly. "But whenever that happens... I'm looking forward to the day you do."

Truth be told, Dylan was as well. It may have seemed like an odd thing, but if he did get there eventually, it meant he had finally found a home. Not just someplace that had, for a short time, felt like it could be home. But a real, stable, loving home that he could count on. Was that even possible? Dylan had given up on the idea of finding any of that year ago. Yet here he had found a mech that, at the very least, cared about him.

Of course, he had to find a real prospect in Ratchet. A giant robot his father had hated, a grumpy older medic who so many said was a hard aft. It almost seemed fitting, that he'd end up with the opposite type that most would have put him with. Maybe that was the way things were intended, not always what they wanted, nor expected, but maybe, just maybe, what they needed.

"Credit for your thoughts?" Ratchet asked after he'd stood there silent for a while.

Dylan looked at Ratchet, and thought, for once, about sharing his thoughts with Ratchet. Maybe even asking him why he thought they had ended up in each others paths in the first place. But he couldn't help but feel that talking to him about that was pushing it. They'd already had one deep conversation that day, and one that a part of him knew that he had needed. Anything else? Well, that could wait until they knew each other a bit better.

"Nothing," Dylan smiled sheepishly. "Just thinking... I'm gonna go back in my room, I have some stuff to do," He explained. "Come get me for dinner, I guess?"

"Of course," Ratchet replied. "And if you need to talk about whatever you're thinking. I'm here," He then reminded him calmly. "But Dylan?" Dylan nodded his head slowly. "You're not bothering me if you hang out here you know. If that's why you spend so much time in your quarters," Dylan blinked, putting his hands in his pockets. "Turn on the TV, enjoy yourself. This is your home too."

"I really don't-."

"Dylan."

Man, he really needed to talk to Ratchet about apparently knowing what he was thinking. And yet, maybe it did help that Ratchet was there to keep him reminded. This was his home, he realized, he didn't have to hide out in his room. And Ratchet wasn't going to stop until he knew he was able to believe that. Slowly, he crossed to the added human side of the living room, sprawling himself out on the couch, and flicking on the television. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to watch a little television, at least for a few hours.

He didn't even notice the triumphant, warm smile that crossed Ratchet's face.


	11. A Whirlwind of Emotions: IMPORTANT AN

A/N: Initially I said there would be NO flashbacks. But I wanted to reveal a bit more about what it was like in Dylan's "home" as a kid so there's going to be one this chapter as he's not ready to talk. But don't worry **THERE IS NO DEPICTION OF MOLESTATION**. I'm not sick enough to show that, I have absolutely no reason to subject anyone to the imagery. If you want that, I suggest you look elsewhere.

That said, there will be a depiction of physical and psychological abuse within the chapter. So be aware of that.

Thanks again to my beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her awesome work on the last three chapters.

 **REPOST WITH AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Just a quick repost to announce to the world that I AM AnswerTheCall. I have just changed my name to AutobotGuy710 because I wanted a name to more represent my Transformers love. Been a long time coming. But if anyone's confused, I figured I should clear the air.

...

 **CHAPTER 11**  
 **A Whirlwind of Emotions**

Ratchet watched Dylan sleep soundly that night from his doorway. Dylan never noticed, or didn't mention if he did, but he had made a habit of doing this. Lingering in his doorway after he'd gone to sleep, watching his body move up and down as he snored quietly. He'd been doing that a lot since Dylan woke up on his second night there, sobbing from his nightmares. It was his way of making sure that his foster son was sleeping soundly and peacefully. Not to mention he had to admit, it was a calming sight.

He'd just stopped his viewing for the night, checking the sensors and alarms in his room carefully when he noticed he was not alone. Optimus was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and a knowing smile on his face. "Yeah, yeah, I know... He'd probably let me have it if he knew," Ratchet told him, waving a hand. "But he is for all intents and purposes my son. And I worry during the night... I only do it once or twice," He added.

"You call him "my son" a lot," Optimus noted gently.

"Because calling him my foster son is degrading in a way," Ratchet admitted, crossing his arms. "I know that no one usually means it as such. But he's in my home, living under my roof, and in my care," He explained honestly. "He has the same right to simply be "my son" as any biological sparkling of mine would be," He added.

Optimus knew that Ratchet knew from experience how being reminded one was not the offspring of their caretaker could hurt. As such, he didn't question it as they entered the living room, sitting themselves down on the couches. "I mean Primus, you clearly know what that animal did to him," He explained, a slight growl to his voice. "He needs someone calling him "his son" that doesn't cause him to whimper, and cry at night," He added.

Optimus's optic softened, looking back to the hallway quietly. "He does so often?"

Ratchet was silent for a long moment as he stared at his friend. "He has horrible nightmares, flashbacks," Ratchet shook his head. "He's had them at least four times this week. The first time he did, he woke up. But since then, it's happened when I've passed by. My presence seems to calm him but I don't think he's fully aware of that. Nor of the fact he's reacting in such a way."

Optimus was silent, clearly he knew a bit about the situation. But like most, he probably didn't know how badly. "It doesn't help that his father was the chief of police where he lived," Ratchet felt like someone had just punched him in the spark. "That much I remember very well. Dylan wouldn't testify against his father other than the one instance, but I know I'm not the only one to believe he used his power to cover up multiple other times. Dylan was too traumatized even then for it to be an isolated incident," He added.

Ratchet felt like purging at the thought, even though he knew Optimus was right long before now. The marks on his back, the brand, there WAS no way Dylan had only fallen victim once. "If I ever get my hands on that piece of slag," Ratchet growled slowly. "I'll tear him into so many pieces..."

"Easy, Ratchet," Optimus soothed. "He's in jail now-."

"For the next five months," Ratchet added slowly. "Then he's free to roam the streets again!"

Optimus looked in surprise as Ratchet slammed a fist against the wall. The mech looked pained, angry, and probably a little unhinged. But he was slowly getting control of himself. "I'm sorry, Prime," Ratchet told him quietly. "But that boy's gotten under my plating. The more time I spend with him the more attached I become," He paused. "I'm starting to come to love him."

Optimus paused a bit, he knew it was early to say that. But as long as he didn't throw that on the boy this soon, what did it matter? Ratchet was very in-tuned with his emotions most of the time, and it was likely the words he spoke were the truth. "I understand that, Ratchet," Optimus told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I believe any creator would. The thought of a loved one suffering the way he did would hurt anyone's spark."

"I just wish I could get him to trust me more," Ratchet explained. "To tell me how to help him better. Because as it is I get so little out of him most days. I want to help..."

Optimus looked Ratchet right in the optics, knowingly. He crossed his arms, and took a deep breath. "You say you love this boy. Or are on the path to feeling such emotions," Ratchet nodded his head in confirmation. "Then in time, he will come to you. In the meantime, he doesn't know what that feels like... To be cared for, or loved," Ratchet looked at him. "The more you show him how that feels, the more likely he IS to open up."

Ratchet thought about that, knowing Optimus was right. Up until now he had avoided any real affection in more than words for fear of triggering an episode. But he remembered how he reacted during the lunch the other day, remembering how he hadn't fought the touch. And realized, maybe that was exactly what he needed. Someone to show him someone could put a hand on him, show him affection, and love, without wanting to hurt him. Because that was something Dylan had definitely been missing: the true idea of what "love" was.

"I didn't want to risk triggering something," Ratchet commented.

"But maybe that's exactly what the boy needs," Optimus told him gingerly. "Someone willing to take the risks, despite their fears."

Ratchet was silent at that, his processor going at a million miles per hour. He tried to figure out what to make of this advice, of whether he really was willing to take the risk. But he was also not the type to go through life afraid of his own shadow like this. "Maybe you're right," Ratchet replied finally. "But I will have to wait until the right time presents itself, at the very least," He pushed himself to his feet. "Anyways, I think I'm off to recharge. If you don't mind."

"Of course," Optimus replied. "We both need to rest up for tomorrow. Good orn, Ratchet."

Ratchet waved his hand as he quietly approached his berthroom. He was going to have to think on this that night, as he knew it would not leave his processor throughout recharge. This was a big deal after all, the mere thought of it, it'd mean moving into a part of his relationship with Dylan he didn't expect to be at yet. In that sense, he wondered if this was how Siren felt about him after he'd stumbled into his med bay looking for a job, and come out his adopted creation practically.

Ratchet hoped that the mech was having a good laugh in the Well of Allsparks if that was the case.

...

That night, Dylan found himself back in time, figuratively of course. It was a memory, he knew that by the fact he was smaller, and that he could feel the shackle clamped around his ankle. He gave it one tug as he always did, his small fingers pulling harshly at the chains. But of course, as always, he was trapped, the chains lodged into the floor of the attic, keeping him there, like a dog. He crawled to the bars of the boarded up attic window, not even able to shake them as he grabbed them.

No, he wasn't back here. This wasn't real. This was a dream.

That's what he tried to tell himself, what he tried to scream at himself. But like a movie, his younger self didn't respond, it didn't change its course. Even as the loud footsteps sounded out near the trap door that led to the attic. Dylan knew what that meant, he was coming, he was coming to get him tonight. His chubby fingers pulled harder on the bars, continuing to yank as he screamed.

He didn't know it, given he'd never seen the outside of his home. But they lived too far outside their town for his screams to matter. No one heard him, no one was going to come find him, not yet anyway. He felt the hot tears stain his face as the trapdoor flipped open. He turned around, the dark, shadowy figure was there, the one that represented the man who put him through hell.

Dylan cried his head off, cowering back as the man carefully unlocked the shackle. He was leaving the attic he knew, but he wouldn't like where he was going. "Please! Please! No! Daddy, no!" He felt the man grab at his arm, but he was able to move his arm through his hand. "Stop!"

"Come on Dylly-billy," Gene whispered into his ear. "We'll go for a walk in the park. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Dylan knew better though, especially when the man wrapped him in a bear hug around the waist. He violently kicked out at the wall, pushing as hard as he could. But against the tall, broad shouldered man, what could he do? He felt the man carry him, towards the staircase, towards the darkness. He screamed loudly, but no one would hear him, no one could hear him.

But this time, someone did.

He felt himself thrown from the man's arms violently. And where he stood, another one did, someone he recognized, though he couldn't fully tell who they were from the distance. This man thrust his father violently against the wall, and threw several punches. Dylan crawled back, fear in his eyes, who was this man? A few minutes later, he found out, after the man had kicked his father down the stairs.

Dylan watched as the figure turned, walking closer and closer. Until finally, in full view was a face he didn't even begin to expect to see: Ratchet, not a holoform, but a smaller, human sized version of the mech himself. "It's alright, Dylan," He spoke quietly. "I'm here now, nothing's going to hurt you," He added quietly.

And suddenly, Dylan realized, he wasn't five. No, he was fourteen again, fourteen but feeling just as small, and scared. He looked up at Ratchet, or at least the dream Ratchet, with eyes filled with tears. "You'll leave me," Dylan told him quietly. "Everyone always does."

But Ratchet didn't move, rather, he reached his hand out. "Not anymore," Ratchet told him gently. "Not if you put your trust in me," He added.

Dylan looked at the hand for a long moment before slowly reaching out. He took the hand slowly, gently, realizing quickly the metal didn't hurt. It wasn't cold either, rather, it felt warm, he blinked quietly, but allowed Ratchet to help him to his feet. Ratchet almost snorted, who knew that a small, human child could make him so nervous? Especially a human who, not so long ago, he could never have imagined caring about as he did now.

...

Dylan shot up in his bed, his breathing labored. It was ten o'clock in the morning already, and for once he was not waking up afraid. Rather he woke up confused, why had he dreamed that? It was unlike him to have something inside his nightmares, combating them like that. And why had it been Ratchet who played the role of the hero? Dylan felt so confused, and yet strangely, not scared.

A pair of footsteps stopped at his door as the Autobot-sized door opened. "Oh good, you're awake," Ratchet spoke as he entered. "We have our reunion with the rest of Prime's friends today. So you'll need to get up quickly, we both slept in a little late as humans say," He paused, noticing the look in Dylan's eyes. "Dylan, are you okay? You look spooked."

Pulling himself out of bed, Dylan looked at Ratchet for a long time. What could he say? "No, I had a dream about my past, and then you, and I'm seriously confused about it"? Ratchet would probably think he was nuts, maybe even give him a psych evaluation. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just had a... Well I had a really weird night," Dylan managed. "I don't know, bizarre dreams and all."

Ratchet nodded his head, seemingly satisfied by the answer. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

"No," Dylan said at once. "Really, I'm okay..."

He knew Ratchet wouldn't believe that, that much was obvious. The mech knew him well enough at this point that trying to keep things from him would only get harder from there. But none the less, he did keep his mouth shut. Instead, he moved past Ratchet to take a shower, which he did rather quickly. He knew that Ratchet probably wanted to get there soon, and he didn't want to get on his bad side by being late. So he was quick to rush through the shower, dressing, and grabbing the cereal that was laid out for him.

Ratchet watched him the whole time with skepticism, but with Optimus gone, he had no one to ask a second opinion from. After all, he had gone ahead in order to secure the spot this year. "Dylan? Relax," Ratchet told him gently. "You're acting rather odd this morning, and I think it's time you told me why," He added. "You're worrying me, youngling."

The teen looked up at his guardian quietly, his blue eyes full of total uncertainty. He gripped the sides of the table quietly, and took a sharp intake of breath. "I had a weird dream, that's all," Dylan replied honestly. "It's nothing that you can really help me with. It's something I need to figure out myself," He added, honesty in his voice. "I promise, if I need to talk to you, I'll get you."

"Are you alright to go to the meeting?" Ratchet asked in concern. "If you aren't, we can stay home. I'm sure the others will understand," He added.

"Ratchet, I'm fine..."

But as he turned around, Dylan took a moment to realize Ratchet's holoform was there. His arms slowly wrapping around him as he held him close to his body. For a moment, Dylan struggled, expecting at any moment to be taken advantage of. But Ratchet didn't, rather, he ran circles along his back, and held him a little tighter in reassurance. After a moment, Dylan felt his body start to relax as Ratchet held him closely, gently, tenderly.

It was the first time Dylan could remember getting a hug in a very, very long time. And to his shock, Dylan didn't want Ratchet to stop, he didn't want to fight him anymore. Instead, he let the mech hold him there for a long moment. He didn't return the hug, it was too abrupt, too sudden, to return it, but regardless he let Ratchet's end of it happen. "Dylan... I know you won't tell me what happened," Ratchet explained gently. "But believe me when I say I can miss this meeting. You're more important to me than this. You're my... Well, for all intents and purposes, you're my son," Dylan felt his body shake. "You need only say the word."

In that moment, Dylan was certain no harm was coming to him. That hug was genuine, a way to comfort him, however awkward the initiation had been. But it was also to Ratchet's surprise when the boy responded, leaning his head against the mech's shoulder. "I'll be okay," Dylan told him calmly. "I promise... I just was a little shaken up," He finished.

Ratchet nodded his head, assured by the way the boy spoke. He carefully released the boy from the hug, watching him as the boy stood there, still a bit awestruck. "Alright, I believe you," Ratchet patted his shoulder. "Now come on, we need to be there soon."

Dylan nodded, watching as the holoform disappeared and Ratchet headed for the door. He stood there for a long moment, his mind running over what had just happened. He felt tears sting his eyes, trying to control himself, but he couldn't. Ratchet's hug had done more than the mech could have imagined, especially when he had asked for nothing, not even a hug of his own in return. Ratchet had just done something that had made him feel something that Dylan had never felt in his life: cared about, wanted, he may have gone as far as to say loved if he knew more about what that felt like.

Ratchet might never know it, but Dylan would always be grateful of that one, small, but meaningful gesture.

...

The gathering was held at the official Autobot Headquarters of Jasper, Nevada. A place that Dylan had seen from a distance, but never as close up as now. It was a giant, bright building that, once inside looked almost like a palace more than a government building. Dylan got a full view of it, because, perhaps because he was worried he'd run, Ratchet had insisted he ride on his shoulder "In case in the excitement someone accidentally stepped in the wrong place" he joked. But Dylan got the distinct feeling there were other reasons that at least didn't seem threatening.

"'Bout time you got here!"

Dylan turned his head to see that he wasn't the only one on the shoulder of a guardian. No, he noticed Shawn right away, in fact with what must have been his own adoptive father. The mech was tall, and rather buff to the point that the green mech was the definition of intimidating. Yet his bright smile, and soft blue optics seemed to offset most of that. "Yes, well, now I'm not the only one I have to get up in the morning cycle," Ratchet replied, shaking hands with Bulkhead calmly.

"Hey Dylan!" Shawn perked up a bit. "You made it! See dad, I told you he would. He's not THAT shy!"

Dylan almost felt offended by the fact that there had been debate over whether or not he'd come. But then again, the last thing he wanted was to make a giant robot angry by verbally chewing out him or his son. "Aha, so you're the little guy who's given Ratchet a run for his money," Bulkhead spoke up enthusiastically. "I don't know if m'boy here's told ye. But I'm Bulkhead, your old mech and I go way back," He explained.

"You were on Team Prime with him and Bee weren't you?" Dylan asked. "And yeah, I'm... Dylan," He added.

Bulkhead grinned a bit, and was about to speak, but it was Shawn who piped up. Not that Dylan was surprised, the boy was always enthused to talk about his dad, or at least, so Dylan had gathered. "You kidding? Heck yeah! My dad was a Wrecker. One of the toughest groups of 'Bots around," He then added. "He, uncle Wheeljack, and Magnus were the muscle of Prime's team practically!" He then added. "And I'm in training to be one too... In the Autobot army when I get older."

"Whoa, slow down their piston rocket," Bulkhead chuckled. "You don't want to make my helm much bigger," He added as he ruffled up his hair with a finger. "But the kid is right," He added, taking Shawn into his hand, and grinning from audio receptor to audio receptor. "I was one tough customer."

"Was?" Shawn raised an eyebrow. "You still are."

"As much of one as an army veteran architect can be," Bulkhead laughed.

Dylan watched the way Bulkhead looked at his son with a hint of jealousy. They were so happy, he realized. And Bulkhead clearly loved, and cared for Shawn very much. Yet, as he thought about why he couldn't have that, he realized, slowly he did have at least one of those things. Ratchet was caring, he had come to realize, he cared about him, though love may not have been the case here. He was no longer just someone who existed in a family's home. No, for once, he was here with someone who actually cared about him, and enjoyed his company.

"You know one of these days, you should tell me about your part in the war," Dylan commented, looking at Ratchet, who looked surprised by the comment. "I know you were the medic, but you must have some cool stories, right?"

Ratchet looked surprised, but now it was Bulkhead's turn to speak up. "Oh yeah! Ratchet did a lot of awesome stuff for us too," He commented. "Don't let him be modest, either. Have him tell you the really good ones," He added, winking at him. "Anyways, we should go in, see you guys upstairs?"

"Count on it," Ratchet replied.

As Bulkhead and Shawn headed towards the elevator, Ratchet stared at Dylan. Clearly, he was confused, but Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "Well you said I'm going to be living with you for a while, didn't you?" He asked innocently enough, as if reading his mind. "I want cool stories to tell too."

Ratchet actually let a small smile cross his face. Wondering if that one simple act was the start, even the smallest start, of them getting somewhere. "Then I'll have to get to telling you soon," Ratchet nodded. "You ready to go up there. Or do you want a little to calm your nerves?"

Dylan looked forward, and sucked in a breath. He could do this, he told himself, he knew he could. "I'm ready."

Hopefully, he would make a good impression.

...

A/N: I know this chapter is a little shorter, but there was so much going on. I figured anything more would be an overload. XD Dylan meets more of the 'Bots next chapter!


	12. Introductions

A/N: Thank you so much again to my amazing beta **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her work on this chapter!

Now to address something for those who don't know: Grimlock's Trial is canceled. Long story short, I jumped in head-first and the idea just kinda fizzled. It was turning into a disaster. Sorry to those who were following. :(

...

 **CHAPTER 12**  
 **Introductions**

Dylan felt like he had all eyes on him when they entered the room. Maybe it was because he was the newest person there, but he felt completely nervous. Ratchet had eventually let him down, but among the group of Autobots he felt out of place. Dylan already noticed some of the ones that were more well known in the world: Arcee, Smokescreen, Ultra Magnus, and Wheeljack. While others he didn't really recognize.

He did, however, quickly notice who exactly Scarlet's parents were, and almost tensed up. He'd seen Ironhide a few times before, everyone had. He was one of the commanders of the Autobot army in Jasper, and was often seen in town. He was a tough, but notoriously kind mech, who was tall, and broad shouldered, with red plating and deep blue eyes. The femme next to him was smaller, but a deep dark blue, blue optics, and a slender frame. He guessed it was Chromia.

Dylan also noticed First Aid as well, along with several Autobots he didn't know. Some of them, he noticed, had brought kids, both human and Cybertronian, of their own. But he was most nervous about meeting Ironhide and Chromia first hand, if Ironhide really was protective of Scarlet. "Ratchet!" Ironhide shouted as he crossed over, of course he would be the first person to step forward. "It's about time you got here. What held you up?"

Dylan's eyes darted away from Ironhide, and instead focused on Scarlet. Who approached them both with her usual wide smile. "Well that part's obvious dad," Scarlet teased slightly. "I don't think you've met his kid, Dylan yet. But he usually has trouble dragging himself to class so," She added.

"Wow, way to talk me up to your dad," Dylan rolled his eyes when he recognized through her face that she was joking.

Dylan watched out of the corner of his eye as Ratchet and Ironhide broke from their greeting. Ironhide's optics immediately shot towards Dylan. Instantaneously Dylan felt like he was very small, fear building up in his body as his heart beat rapidly. The mech approached slowly, and crouched; and for a moment, Dylan felt like this was the end. Until a finger carefully shot out towards him.

"So you're Dylan then," Ironhide told him in a far calmer manner than he'd expected. "It's good to finally meet you. Between Ratchet and Scarlet, I've heard a mouthful," He snorted. "But Ratchet wanted you comfortable before he threw his friends on ye."

Dylan stared for a moment, but took a deep breath, taking hold of the finger and shaking it. It felt odd, having one of the toughest mechs, and his crush's father, act so calm and friendly to him. But he doubted it would be his first guess, which was that Scarlet had told him his past. "It's nice to meet you, too," Dylan managed. "I've heard a lot from Scarlet and Ratchet, too."

As Ironhide straightened, Ratchet spoke up about not introducing them almost instantly. "To be fair, he'd just been taken from a real doozy of a home," He told his old friend. "I certainly wanted you to meet my son. Same as you wanted me to meet Scarlet," He then explained. "But we all know having younglings does change things a bit. Including how you handle situations," He finished.

Dylan blushed again as Ratchet, once again, mentioned him being his son, followed by his youngling. Mixed with the hug, he had to admit, it was really hard to keep a smile from his lips. "Indeed it does," Ironhide turned his head as Chromia approached, wrapping an arm around Ironhide's waist. "I'm glad you figured out that part of it so soon," She looked down at Dylan calmly. "I'm sure you've figured it out, but I'm Chromia. It's very nice to finally meet you as well."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you," Dylan stated, feeling even more nervous now.

Ratchet looked down at Dylan, noticing the nerves. He looked between them, finally speaking up. "You'll have to forgive him, he has a little bit of social anxiety," Dylan looked at him with a glare. "Don't give me that look, Dylan. It's true, and I don't like seeing you so stressed," He added.

"Ah, I feel ye on that one. Scarlet here had a lot of that for a while too," Ironhide nodded, motioning to his daughter calmly. "It's alright youngin', we'll take it easy on ye. But I'm pretty certain a lot of others are gonna want to meet ye," He then explained. "And don't worry, here yer family. So be yerself and you'll fit right in."

Family, Dylan put his hands in his pockets, that would take even more getting used to. If the Autobots considered themselves one big family, then that was a bigger one than he'd ever experienced. Given he'd only ever known his dad, whose family was either dead, or wanted nothing to do with him. "Well come on then," He suddenly felt Scarlet tug on his arm. "If you're going to be this nervous, let me introduce you to some of the 'Bots and other kids. I think you'll really like Smokescreen especially, he's a hoot." She added.

"Scarlet, I think-."

"Aw, let 'em go, Ratchet," Ironhide encouraged. "As long as your boy has no ill intentions with my daughter. There won't be a problem, will there, son?" He asked.

At that point, Dylan did notice that Ironhide was giving him the look he expected. That one that said "Don't you dare try anything.", and frankly, Dylan was the last person that would. But he could understand why he was nervous, after all, for some boys, that was the only thing on their minds. "Dad," Scarlet groaned. "Trust me, Dylan's the last person to be like that," She stated in his defense.

"I promise sir," Dylan moved his hands out of his pockets. "She's right, I never would," He commented. "Because... Well, I was taken advantage of too."

It came out before he knew what he was doing, but he also knew it had to be said. In order to at least keep Ironhide calm, and make him believe him, it would at least help. And it did, as Ironhide's optics slowly softened, and he looked at Ratchet, who only nodded in confirmation. "Well, you to get on going," Ironhide nodded. "Have fun."

Dylan was dragged away by Scarlet before another word was exchanged. But Dylan felt very grateful for the fact Ironhide believed him, honestly. He knew that some people believed abusers would become ones themselves, or act out their abuse on others. Some even did fall under that category. But he knew that Ironhide could rest assured he was not one of them. After all, he was scared of it ever happening again to himself, let alone to others.

The very thought made him shudder.

He felt a hand squeeze his, and looked at Scarlet. She smiled a bit, knowing exactly what was in his had, and he could tell. "Dad doesn't judge or stereotype like that," Scarlet shook her head. "So you can relax, you were honest with him. He trusts you, even if it'll make him no less protective," She explained.

As he looked over to see that Ratchet and Ironhide were talking, even if he couldn't hear, he sighed. He knew Ratchet was probably filling him in, and so he hoped that Scarlet was right. He could take being looked at like any other boy who was crushing on his daughter, but he didn't want the latter. But as Ironhide caught his gaze, he simply nodded, both at him and Ratchet, as if to say he did trust him.

And so, Dylan couldn't help but relax, for now.

...

Dylan quickly learned, and was surprised to find, most of Team Prime had never really settled down after the war. All of them, including Ratchet, he learned were reserve soldiers, or in the case of a few, still soldiers. The former of which meant they would still battle Decepticons if they were needed. And the latter of which consisted of Arcee, Ultra Magnus, and Wheeljack, who all were still fighting the good fight even if times were slow. On the other hand, Smokescreen was an archivist, Bulkhead, of course, an architect, and Bumblebee an enforcer.

Of all of them, two of them had family. Optimus was bonded with his love of his life: Elita-1 (who was on business elsewhere), and on top of being Bumblebee's adoptive creator, they had a grown human son themselves. He, however, was long since grown, and working as a senator in Washington DC, with children of his own. While Ultra Magnus hadn't bonded, but had an adoptive daughter as well, whom was currently away at college overseas.

The others were either dating or single. Though Bumblebee felt unready to start a family at his young age anyway, and expressed no need to rush. While Smokescreen, who was a little older, hadn't found the right person to settle down with as of yet. Dylan however did feel nervous, he hadn't forgotten Ratchet's slip-up and he wondered if any Autobots were secretly scanning him right now. As if the feeling of being surrounded by strangers, all of whom were very excited to meet the boy that their old friend had taken as a son wasn't overwhelming enough.

About halfway through the meeting, Ratchet decided to cycle back around to them. Noting the anxiety in his eyes, he smiled, and stepped up beside him with his hands on his hips. "They aren't harassing you for details of your life with me, are they?" He joked, nodding to Smokescreen and Wheeljack, who he and Scarlet had been talking to currently. "You have to watch out for these two, y'know. They're troublemakers," He snorted.

Dylan gave a small smile, trying his best to hide how nervous he was. Ratchet knew better of course, he'd learned well enough to read Dylan's uncomfortable face. "Aw, we're not trying to do anything," Smokescreen told Ratchet honestly. "Sorry if we were overwhelming you. We were just trying to make you feel welcome," He added calmly.

Dylan crossed his arms a bit. "It's whatever," He muttered. "I'm just not used to so many people being this interested in me."

Ratchet stepped in for a moment, and shot Dylan a look. One that seemed to ask whether or not he could speak up. But when Dylan shied away, Ratchet knew not to at once. The last time he had done something against Dylan's wishes, he had been surprised how the boy had forgiven him. "He's had a hard life, without much of a "family" to speak of," He said, giving away nothing about his past despite that generic statement. "I think we need to give him time to adjust to having one as big as this. And do remember that, Dylan, we are one big family."

Dylan had never thought he'd hear that, at all. And it was true, he really hadn't had a family. And if one said he did, the only one they could actually say? Was essentially a physically, psychologically, and sexually abusive monster. "Well we all know that story," Dylan looked at Wheeljack as he spoke up. "Don't look so surprised, war doesn't leave a lot of room for family. And it does things to the family you do have sometimes," He then added. "You're in the right place for understanding."

"Frag, I was raised by my brothers," Smokescreen added in. "So you've got one parent over me," He joked gently, pointing at Ratchet. "Too bad for you, it had to be a crusty old medic like him," He teased.

Ratchet gave a grimace, though Dylan had to actually giggle. Even if it was definitely hard to think of Ratchet as his parent, he did suppose that was what he was trying to fill in the role of. But again, the ever present question was there, could Ratchet ever be that? The parent he had searched for his entire life. The one that would hold him in his arms, let him know everything would be alright? The one to actually teach him what this thing the world called "love" is?

For a moment there, when he'd hugged him, held him like that, he'd thought he might be. But other times, like when he'd lifted his shirt, he thought otherwise. What was the truth? Would he ever know? Would he ever be able to know, or would things, as always, fall apart on him? As he thought this over, he looked over to see that Ultra Magnus was watching them.

Dylan grimaced slightly, he'd been watching them a lot since they arrived. And he had one of those looks on his face that said he knew, somehow, about him. Dylan doubted Optimus had said anything, as he hadn't even told Ratchet, but it still made him uncomfortable. Something which wasn't helped as the mech started to make his way toward him. Dylan quickly looked at Ratchet, and then at Scarlet. "Hey Scar, show me where the bathroom is will you?"

"Uh, sure?" Scarlet asked, confused by the outburst.

Before she could ask, however, he was making his way through the crowd. Ratchet blinked, ready to call after him until a hand fell on his shoulder, this was of course Ultra Magnus. Who without warning moved him aside, where no one could see him. "I have to ask you something, soldier," Magnus commented. "Was your new youngling... Sexually abused?"

Ratchet looked at Magnus, shocked that the mech had been so direct. "I-I, Primus, how do you know?" Ratchet asked, looking the mech in the optics. "Don't tell me Dylan knows you too."

"He doesn't," Magnus answered bluntly. "But I noticed something... That gave it away," He commented. "You may not be aware, but Danielle was also... Sexually abused before she came to me. He acts in a similar manner she did around adult men in early years," He paused. "The reason I ask you this is because I wish to know if you've gotten Dylan counseling on the matter."

Ratchet felt confused, but none-the-less, was not surprised. Not unlike him, Magnus had been quiet on the type of abuse that Danielle, his daughter, had gone through was. But it made sense, he had remembered how timid, and tense she had once been, and wondered why he had not thought of it before. "No," Ratchet breathed. "Dylan... Well, I took him to a therapist. But they got off on the wrong foot. The man said that he wasn't the right fit. So I've been working on finding others."

Magnus nodded his head, looking off towards where Dylan had walked off. He then turned to Ratchet, who felt a ping in his database, pulling something up on his data banks. A name, and a number, he observed. "Dr. Brink is one of the best in her field for children like Dylan and Danielle," Ratchet looked at him blankly. "Without him, Primus knows Danielle would have gone through pit," He explained. "He, too was abused in such a way as a child. And has made it his mission to help other children like him."

Ratchet didn't know what to think, given it was a man. They had tried a man, and Dylan had not opened up to him at all. Dylan's fear of adult men was too strong, or so he guessed. "I don't know, sir," Ratchet replied honestly. "Dylan's distrust runs very deep," He added.

"Trust me, Ratchet," Magnus put his hands on his hips. "He worked miracles for her. And if he's still as good? He'll work miracles for Dylan as well," He explained. "I know what it's like to go through this. Shawn had his abuse Bulkhead needed help with. Same with Ironhide and Chromia with Scarlet. But our little soldiers, that kind of abuse... It's a whole different ball park. Especially when they need to be shown what love is, and how it works." With a nod, he added. "I understand where your processor is at better than anyone right now."

Ratchet blinked, knowing that that much was true. Magnus probably did understand better than anyone in that room what it was like. He had no doubt gone through the nightmares, dealt with trying to show love and affection in a way that didn't send his daughter into discomfort, and the like. And now, he was offering Ratchet help, help that he undoubtedly needed.

The medic nodded his head finally, letting Magnus put a hand on his shoulder. No doubt, he was feeling a bit better now, as he hoped that this Dr. Brink really was the miracle worker the commander spoke of. "The road you have ahead of you is going to be hard, Ratchet," Magnus spoke plainly. "Perhaps even harder if there were other types of abuse. As I find is usually the case," He explained. "But I hope the end result will be as rewarding for you as it was for me."

Ratchet was about to speak up when he noticed Dylan returning from the corner of his optic. At this point, he knew that if the boy heard about their chat, he'd jump to the wrong conclusions. "Ultra Magnus, I don't think you've properly met Dylan," He noted, as they'd only been in the same group chatter. "Dylan, this is Commander Ultra Magnus. I know you both met briefly, but..."

"I know, everybody knows him," Dylan joked, trying to mask how nervous he was. "It's kind of hard to not have heard about the Autobot that carries a hammer around like he's Thor or something," Scarlet jabbed her friend gently in the ribs, giving him the idea that was not the time for jokes. "I mean it's nice to meet you, sir."

Magnus regarded him, surprisingly, with a softness that Dylan hadn't expected. He didn't even look mad at his attitude, but rather seemed to be continuing to read him. What was this mech's deal? Wasn't he supposed to be stoic? Cold? He'd always read that he was so-called "worse than Prowl" in that respect after all. "A pleasure, soldier," Magnus nodded his head slightly. "And as for this "Thor". I am not a lightning wielding God of Thunder. I carry around this hammer as it was once a grand weapon. And remains a historical relic for our species."

Dylan looked a little amused at the fact that the mech was trying to give him a history lesson. Ratchet on the other hand merely shook his head slightly, an amused look on his features. He of course knew how Dylan was feeling about it, but none-the-less added his two cents. "Now that's one of those war stories I should tell you. How Wheeljack and I met on the relic hunt. The same hunt we found that hammer," He explained. "The Forge of Solus Prime to be exact."

From nearby, Wheeljack snorted, looking over at Ratchet. "Oh jeez, that story?" Wheeljack commented. "I didn't know you liked to think about that, doc. Especially since we failed that one."

Ratchet snorted in an "as if" manner, smirking at Wheeljack. But now, Dylan couldn't help but be a little curious about it now. What was it about then? Especially if Ratchet hadn't succeeded in some way. Dylan looked at Ratchet before leaning against the wall. "Really, what happened?" Dylan shrugged. "Why wait to tell it?"

Ratchet and Wheeljack shared glances before Ratchet took a deep breath. He looked at his foster son, and gave a small smile. "Alright," Ratchet replied. "I suppose one old war tale wouldn't hurt anything," He explained. "You see, it was near the tail-end of the relic hunt..." He began.

Dylan simply relaxed, standing there among the Autobots who seemed just as relaxed, calm, and at ease. Maybe he really needed to give them a chance, he decided. Even as he still kept his arms crossed, and shrank back a little. After all, trust only went so far. But maybe they wouldn't be so bad after all.

...

Eugene Logan was five months away from seeing the outside of his cell.

He sat there, waiting for his visitor with that though burning into his skull. Soon enough, he'd be free of the hell hole that he'd been put in nine years ago. And in another five months, he'd be able to see his kid again. His dirty, rotten, good for nothing "kid" that was the entire reason he'd been thrown in there. Stripped of the grand reputation he had as a beloved police chief, labeled a pedophile and a monster. And sure, he did like kids, really liked kids, but his reputation, that had been everything to him.

And sooner or later, he was going to get payback for it.

Sure, the state was trying to block out his files about his son from him. And from inside the prison, it was a pretty easy task for them to accomplish. But he had his ways, his contacts from the outside world that visited once a month with whatever they could gather. Which was nothing, absolutely jack squat, a fact which drove Gene up a wall. Where had they moved the punk where he couldn't find him? He had to wonder.

The gentle tapping of shoes grabbed his attention as a thin, lanky looking man approached. A sight that would have seemed strange to most, given Gene was a big, muscular man with stringy black hair, and pale blue eyes that pierced into the very souls of men. But not all of hsi men were meat heads, some of them were genuinely "good" looking guys that no one would suspect.

"Tell me you have something for me, Donnie," Gene grumbled. "I'm running low on time, and you buffoons are no closer to finding him."

The man, Donnie, seated himself in front of him. His eyes locking with the man's as he tapped the table nervously. He watched the guards quietly, and then leaned forward towards the man. "I've got a lead," He commented. "They say that your son got moved from Oregon... That's why we haven't found a trace of him here," He explained. "That was all I could gather though. No city name, no state, no current foster parent... Frankly, I think they're onto us and are deliberately leaving information out of the files we've been searching through."

Gene rested his fists under his chin, a smirk crossing his face. So Dylan had been moved away from Oregon? That was certainly a surprise for him, to say the least. But at this point, it didn't matter much, it would never matter where he hid. They could move him a thousand times, and Gene would find him, he swore to himself he'd find him and lock him up somewhere he'd never be found again. And this time, he would make sure of it.

"Good," Gene commented. "Find out where. And I'll increase the payment I promised you."

Even if the guards didn't know what it was about, they could only shudder at the cold, cruel smile that spread on his face.

...

A/N: At first I didn't intend to have Gene show up for a long time. But really, I felt the story needed a sense of danger. So from now on, he'll have his own segments every so often. ;)


	13. Complicated Feelings

A/N: Thanks again to my awesome beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her work on this chapter yet again! You rock!

...

 **CHAPTER 13**  
 **Complicated Feelings**

Dylan was starting to become more and more calmed around the Autobots. Though he still did not fully trust any of them, they had at least not done anything toward him yet. He spent most of the time very close to Ratchet, who was continuing to do a better job than Dylan expected in introducing him, and keeping him comfortable. It was a fact that seemed to surprise his friends as well, who appeared not used to seeing Ratchet being so soft, or gentle towards anyone. But by the time things were slowly winding down for the night, Dylan could honestly say he had a good time, which surprised him.

At this point, Team Prime were really all that was left of the gathering. Others had to return to work, had other things, or even families to attend to. But Team Prime had seemingly cleared their schedules in order to take this moment, one they rarely had anymore, and regroup. Which left himself and of course, Shawn as the only humans there, as Scarlet had left when Ironhide had about an hour previously. Bulkhead had Shawn in his knee within the circle of Autobot-sized chairs they had now formed.

Dylan, less easily, had let Ratchet convince him to seat himself onto Ratchet's shoulder. And along with Shawn, he quietly listened in on the conversations the group had. The seven of them really got into the thick of their discussions now that they were alone, and he had to admit it was interesting. "Yeah, I know what you mean," His mind was pulled out of its thoughts as Arcee spoke up a little louder. "I think the 'Cons have been a little too quiet, myself. But I'm not complaining about the quiet," She was clearly talking to Magnus. "We've earned it by this point if you ask me."

Dylan paused a moment, Decepticons? Were there really even any of them left anymore? He'd heard rumors of course, but he'd been under the impression that most of them were gone or defected by now. "Decepticons are still around?" He asked as he shifted on Ratchet's shoulder. "I mean... I thought they were gone a few decades ago. And the Autobot army was around just in case?"

"That's both true and not," Bulkhead answered Dylan.

"The short answer," Ratchet explained. "Is that we have mostly driven the Decepticons away. Especially after Megatron was ended over a hundred years ago," Dylan nodded his head, following. "But they did not just take it lying down. Many of them are still out there. Which is why we do still have our army. We wage many battles, more than the government chooses to make public."

Dylan stiffened a bit, would this mean that at any time, Ratchet could be called to battle? After all, he was part of the most famous group the Autobot army had. If they had a crisis? Would he go out to battle? Possibly, to never come back? But it was Shawn, who seemingly noticed his worry, that spoke up. "You don't have to worry about if that happens though," He told him honestly. "Ratchet retired from the army a while ago. He's only a reserve now. He hasn't seen action in years. Right Ratch?"

Ratchet nodded, it was true, it had been years since he'd been out in the field. He'd liked it that way now that the war was mostly over. He wanted to get back to having a more steady life, and being the medic he had once been in Iacon. And now he had that wish, and hopefully was on his way to getting the next wish on his list: a family. "No, I haven't seen action in quite some time. And I prefer it that way in some ways," Ratchet explained. "I was always more of a medic than I was a fighter."

Dylan wondered just how true that was. He'd heard the story about how he and Wheeljack met, of course, and he'd seemed pretty competent then. So a part of him guessed, rather honestly, that Ratchet was being a bit humble about how important he had been in the war. But then again, Dylan still would rather not think about Ratchet going out into battle, not when he was seemingly one of the few people in the world who cared about him at all.

Though it was hard for him to admit, he was scared of losing Ratchet. Because no doubt if he was killed, all of the other Autobots would find they could care less about him too. He figured the only reason they were nice to him at all was because he was Ratchet's foster son. And the idea, however wrong it may have been in reality, made Dylan sad because he genuinely liked this, a part of him genuinely liked them.

What was wrong with him?

He'd always had one rule for himself in his homes: he didn't come to like ANYONE. He didn't stick around, or hang out long enough to let himself get that far. He didn't make friends with people. But here he was, smiling, laughing, enjoying himself. He rubbed his eyes slightly, trying to figure out what this meant, if it meant anything at all. He didn't know honestly, but it somewhat scared him.

Ratchet noticed the silence, and the tenseness that the boy seemed to have. Inside, he honestly wondered what was going through his mind, though he had a few ideas. "Well, hopefully you'll never have a reason to fight," He shook his head. "Maybe the Decepticons will disappear forever. Or, there will be a peace? I mean you guys have been fighting for centuries."

Bulkhead shook his head. "Not likely," He told him. "It'll probably be that way for centuries more."

"Way to be optimistic, Bulk," Arcee replied. "Scare the kid why dontcha?"

Bumblebee stood to his feet, shaking his head slightly. He held up an energon cube, and in a lighthearted voice spoke up. "I agree, let's stop acting so bleak!" Bumblebee commented. "Anyone want another high grade? Maybe we can pop on some old video feeds from our memory files. I bet the kids would enjoy that!"

But Dylan knew he would find it hard to enjoy much of anything else now that his thoughts had gone there. Though at this point, he tried to smile, and push the thoughts away as well. After all, it was like he said, he DID like these guys. And for now, at least, he could try to enjoy their company.

...

Dylan was only half-aware, in his tired state, of the fact that he was being held. The boy wanted to move, to fight in some ways, but he was so tired, only faintly aware of anything. And the arms holding him were so gentle, so soft, not offering him any abuse as he drifted in and out of sleep. If he could have looked into his foster son's head, Ratchet might have learned all these were thoughts running through it as he carried Dylan in his holoform's arms that night.

He might have woken him up had it been a shorter day, but he could easily tell how exhausted the boy now was. So instead, he shifted the fourteen year old slightly, which wasn't hard as his holoform was large, and Dylan himself a little small for his age. "I wish he were about Corey's age when you first got him," Ratchet commented as he and Optimus approached the front door of his home. "Kids are heavy as teenagers. It's straining the nanobots a bit," He chuckled.

"Indeed," Optimus chuckled slightly, opening the door for Ratchet to carry the young human inside. "You could have carried him in your true form," He added.

Ratchet shrugged, looking at his old friend quietly. "The higher up he is the more likely I am to startle him awake," The medic explained honestly. "I figure tucking him in with my human form will just make sense. Not that I'm an expert on the subject," He explained. "Either way I don't know what I'm doing entirely."

Optimus shook his head, putting his hand on Ratchet's shoulder. He noticed the mech was becoming more and more of a father just in the two days he had spent with him. With his worries, and his actions, it wouldn't be long before he had no idea who he was talking to. "You are becoming a father in spirit quite quickly," Optimus chuckled. "Maybe your feeling of "love" has not come too soon after all."

Ratchet let that thought swarm through his processor as he entered Dylan's bedroom, and settled him onto his bed. He was careful to tuck the sheet and blankets over Dylan slowly, not wanting to disturb his rest. And slowly, he began to stroke the boy's hair, gently, tenderly. For a moment, he found himself leaning over, to just leave a kiss on his forehead like other parents may have after doing this.

But he pulled back, feeling himself moving too fast. Optimus may have been right about how he was beginning to feel about Dylan, but he knew if that was the case, Dylan didn't reciprocate yet. As much as he wanted to give this boy the affection that he felt for him, he knew that it would have to be slow. He hated that was the case, he'd always imagined, when he thought of younglings, that they'd be the one type of creature he could smother. But Dylan, of course, had other issues to work out.

So he let his holoform disappear from the room, and turned to Optimus for an answer. "I think so, too," Ratchet told him. "Which is what makes this so hard. I want to give him that feeling he's never had. But it feels like I only make the smallest breakthroughs with him," He explained. "I hugged him this morning, and I feel like it helped a little."

"Again, affection will help," Optimus explained.

"Of course," Ratchet nodded. "But I also know I have to be deliberate in it. Show what he's comfortable with, when I know it won't trigger something," Optimus nodded his head slowly. "It's all giving me a processor-ache," He groaned slightly.

Optimus looked at Ratchet quietly, he nodded his head in understanding. Ratchet moaned to himself, he wished that people would stop doing that like it helped. "When you take a child from the foster care system, it's never easy," He told him honestly. "It's hard in the beginning, but it does get better. Just remember my advice," He added. "Hugs are a good start, after all."

Hugs were a start, he supposed that was true. But he could only hope that Dylan hadn't secretly acted upset over it earlier in that respect. He rubbed his optics slightly, frustration in there again. "At least tell me this gets easier," He told the Prime. "That there really is some sort of silver lining at the end of this."

Optimus nodded his head, it was what everyone had to hear. Though he wished that it was true with all children, that they all ended up okay, he knew he couldn't really say "of course". Some children didn't find that silver lining in their lives, some fell to drugs, alcohol, anything to numb the pain. Some pushed everyone away, even those that loved them. But something told him Dylan would have none of these things happen to him, or at least he hoped.

"You can only be optimistic on the matter of the future," Optimus told him gently. "Dylan's own fate will be decided on his own. But he has a strong, loving, and kind mech looking after him," Ratchet lowered his head slightly. "If he is as reasonable as he appears to be. I believe there will be just that," He added.

Ratchet hoped beyond hope that Optimus was being sound with his reasoning. He wanted to believe that he, and Dylan, would eventually be a family. He wanted to be the person that this boy was able to trust, to look at not as someone who was just taking care of him, but as a father. Something told the mech that this boy had not just been thrown in his way for no reason, they had come across each other because Dylan needed him. And Ratchet needed Dylan too, to make him a parent, and to make him happy.

Because Primus knew if there was one thing Dylan's presence had done, it was make him happy.

"I hope so," Ratchet finally told his old friend with all honesty. "If not, then Primus is being cruel. Putting someone I can't help in my path," He added with a hint of annoyance and anger. "Why would he give me that kind of grief? It makes no sense."

Optimus knew that in itself was a good question, at least if Dylan didn't end up okay. But rather than comment that, he again placed a hand on his back, rubbing it. The mech needed some reassurance, a gentle push to keep going despite the innate fear it would be for nothing. "I am certain Dylan was put here so that you can save him," He explained. "But perhaps, you should get some rest. It has been a long day for all of us," He added.

Ratchet let out a frustrated sigh, but nodded. Indeed, it had been a long, but good day for all of them. And perhaps he was simply worrying for nothing as again, it had been handled well. Dylan had gotten along with the others to the best of his ability, after all. "You're right," Ratchet muttered. "Maybe I'm overthinking it. I've tended to do that more with Dylan than I have with anyone else."

"That is what having children is like," Optimus told him honestly. "They, and their feelings become the center of your world."

As Ratchet moved towards his berth room, he knew he could not, and would not even try to, argue with that.

...

That night, when Dylan's guttural screams filled the home, Ratchet paused in front of his door. What did he do? What did he say? The hug had changed things a bit today, as he'd said for a while now. But it most effected this. How did someone comfort their child while they had nightmares with affection? So when his holoform appeared inside the room, and he saw the boy thrashing, he looked at him thoughtfully.

It was awkward at first, trying to take Dylan into his palm. He was careful, gentle, and working hard to make sure that he didn't wake Dylan up, not yet, at least. Instead, he brought Dylan up close, and did what he'd seen some caretakers and creators do with their sparklings. He brought Dylan close to his spark, where he could hear the calming hum of his spark as he seated himself down, running two gentle fingers along his spine.

To his surprise, he could already feel as Dylan's thrashing was slowly stopping. His screams dying down a little, though not much. "Shhhhhh Dylan," Ratchet whispered quietly, his voice softer than anyone but First Aid had ever heard it. "It's alright, sofspark. I'm right here, Ratchet's here," He cooed. "No one's ever going to hurt you again."

Dylan's thrashing slowly died down, and his screams, became soft whimpers. Maybe Dylan couldn't hear him, but no doubt he could feel him. And the fact that the boy wasn't fighting the gentle hold, well, that was a miracle in and of itself. Eventually his eyes shot open, and Dylan looked up at him, shifting a little bit, fear in his eyes. "Easy," Ratchet told him. "You were having a nightmare. I was just trying to help... If you want me to put you back in bed, I will."

Dylan ran a hand along his arm, staring back up at Ratchet nervously. He wasn't sure how to respond, and that much was obvious. A part of him looked like he was enjoying this, between the gentle hum of the mech's spark and the gentle rubbing of his back. But another wondered what he planned to do; whether or not this was really just an attempt to comfort him.

And then, he slowly leaned his head against his plating. Perhaps only for the moment, he chose to trust that Ratchet wouldn't hurt him, but only then. "Are you going to drag it out of me?" Dylan asked, clearly showing how he had been bothered by the shirt incident. "Because at least give me warning if you're doing it because of that."

Ratchet guessed that he did deserve that. After all, the hug, and this were both so out of the blue, no doubt he might think it was another way of forcing the past out of him. But he didn't want Dylan to feel that way about him, always wondering that way. "I made a mistake," Ratchet explained quietly. "But I don't ever intend to make it again, Dylan. I promise," He explained. "I'm here if you need me... And until you're ready to try sleeping again," He then paused. "We can even sit here in silence if you want."

"We can just sit here?" Dylan asked. "Are you for real?"

"If you don't want me here, I'll leave," Ratchet told him. "I don't want to do this if you think I have my own intents at spark. I only do this because I don't like to hear you screaming at night," He said. "I do this because I want you to feel safe, cared for, and protected in my home."

Dylan looked at Ratchet, and looked for a hint that he was lying. But slowly, surely, it hit him that the mech was being genuine, or he was good at hiding it in his optics. "Do I have to do something?" The boy rasped. "Because of this? Is that what you want instead?"

Ratchet tried to hide the fact that he was close to leaking from his optics. Why did this boy have to perceive such a gentle, affectionate gesture in such a way? He wanted to kill his father for teaching him that love, or any type of affection, was simply the means to gaining pleasure in such a way. "Dylan," Ratchet told him gently. "I promise you, with all my spark... I will never, ever ask you for those kinds of "favors"," He was firm in a way that made Dylan's eyes fill with confusion. "I swear on my life, no one will EVER ask for that again... Here, everything I do is out of genuine... Fondness," He decided on the term, rather than scare him.

Dylan felt confusion in every pore of his body. Was this the "love" other families talked about? Or at least the very small stages of true "affection"? Was Ratchet reaching out to show him what he had often contemplated? That actions like these DIDN'T lead to other things? He didn't know what to think as he listened to the humming of the spark inside the chamber. He wanted to trust Ratchet when he did things like this, stuff like this made him want to get closer to him.

Stuff like this made him want to forget the moment he lifted his shirt. In fact, times like this were the only reason he hadn't walked off by now. Those real, genuine-feeling moments where Ratchet made him feel like he mattered. For the first time in his life, he mattered to someone. "I really hope..." Dylan managed. "I can trust you the way you're making me want to."

Ratchet paused, knowing that it was an honest statement. But instead of directly answering his foster son, he gently rubbed his back. "Go to sleep, Dylan," He whispered. "I'm right here."

And for some reason, or another, Dylan made the choice to trust his gut. To let his eyes grow heavier, until they gently closed, and he drifted off to sleep. For the first time, able to put his faith in someone to watch over him for the night. And watch over him, Ratchet would.


	14. Emotions

A/N: Thanks again to my amazing beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her work on this chapter! :D

...

 **CHAPTER 14**  
 **Emotions**

Dylan had decided to keep his head low, because he knew Ratchet was going to let him have it. He'd done a good job to keep himself out of fights, at least up until now. But now he'd done it, especially as he'd really let the other kid have it, admittedly. Not that that the snot nosed brat didn't deserve it, he figured. He'd been pulling at his last nerve for the last several weeks and he didn't want to deal with it. Especially not on a day that he was supposed to be going to see the new therapist that Ratchet had had recommended to him.

But of course, he knew Ratchet would have none of it. Especially as he saw the form of the very unhappy looking mech coming down the hallway. Dylan tried to wipe the triumphant grin off his face, but he knew Ratchet had already seen it just by the way he looked at him. "You my young friend are in a wold of trouble," Dylan frowned slightly, sinking lower into his seat. "Fighting? Really? Of all the things you do I thought that would never be a problem with someone like you."

"That jerk deserved it!" Dylan told him bluntly. "I didn't do it for fun. I did it to get him off my back."

Ratchet gave him a look that said that he was shocked by the statement. He groaned, hanging his head a little. He didn't like seeing Ratchet so disappointed, it was even worse than he imagined. "Dylan, I am so disappointed in that attitude," Ratchet told him, a sigh escaping his vents. "You're better than that. I know it, and you know it."

Dylan tried to hide his sadness, but he knew he wasn't doing a good job. He had been about to reply when the door to the principal's office opened. The older woman that stepped out looked none-too-happy either, but Dylan guessed it was a given, most high school principal's were like that. "You must be Dylan's foster parent," She spoke up, looking at Ratchet. "Good to meet you, though the circumstances aren't very good."

Dylan stood, and strode to the principal's office, which was Ratchet's first indication something was wrong. The boy did a lot of things, but he rarely, if ever, stormed off. It was right up there with fighting when it came to a surprise action for him to act like. Dylan was quiet, but he was, for the most part, not openly defiant. "I'm sorry about this, m'am," Ratchet told her. "I don't even know what's come over him. Outside of one incident of running away, he never acts this way at home."

"I know exactly what you mean. Call me Principal Lee, by the way."

"Ratchet." He simply replied.

She paused a moment, shaking her head. "Dylan has always been so quiet. I can't think of a problem any of his teachers have had other than the fact he is very solitary. And has to be pushed to work with others, or accept a teacher's help," Ratchet nodded slowly. "So when I heard he'd been in for fighting I was shocked."

Ratchet sighed, so this wasn't typical behavior here then either. What was wrong? He had a few ideas, but he wasn't totally sure as they entered the office, he, using his holoform to better be on level with the principal. He took a seat beside Dylan, deciding first to listen to what the Principal had to say. "Alright then, let's start with what you know about what happened," He told her.

"What, I don't even get to tell my side?" Dylan asked haughty.

"You'll get to say your piece. But I want to hear an impartial third party point-of-view first."

Lee looked at him, then at Dylan, who was looking more and more nervous. "Well first of all, I believe the other boy, Bradley, has been giving Dylan trouble. And a lot of it," She said honestly. "Shawn Miller and Scarlet Hide both made sure I knew that. Apparently he overheard a conversation between Scarlet and Dylan... Something about his past."

"Oh Primus," Ratchet muttered. "Please tell me he didn't-."

"He did," Dylan replied. "And he told his buddies about it too."

Lee looked at Ratchet, who now looked mortified. It was no wonder Dylan had beat the boy, frankly, he wanted to do the same thing. This was no one's business but that of Dylan, and those he chose to share it with. But now, Dylan's secret was probably swarming through the halls of his high school right now. "The point is. After a few boys jeered at him for it. Dylan apparently tackled Bradley to the ground and began to beat him," She explained. "Bradley, of course, is in serious trouble, I can assure you of that."

"He'd better be," Ratchet told her. "What Dylan did to him will heal. But what that brat did to Dylan, that most certainly cannot be taken back."

Dylan looked up at Ratchet. He was on his side about this? He didn't understand, he had fought this boy. He'd beaten the crap out of him, and Ratchet was still concerned about what Bradley had done? "Though I assure you, Principal Lee. This is not something I will be writing off," Ratchet explained. "There are better ways to handle the situation. And violence is not acceptable," He stated, looking at Dylan firmly. "It won't be happening again."

Dylan wasn't sure why Ratchet was looking at him for so long. But after a moment, he got the idea, mouthing "really?". Of course, Ratchet's look didn't waver. "It won't happen again, Principal Lee, I promise," Dylan said, though feeling begrudging.

Lee leaned in to look at Dylan, who barely raised his eyes to look at her. "Dylan, I'm very sorry this happened. No one deserves to have something so personal come out like that," The boy nodded his head a little bit. "I assure you we take bullying, of any kind, very seriously. And while you are going to serve a few days detention, Bradley will be serving suspension, and several weeks detention. Especially given this is far from a first offense."

"Dylan won't be suspended?" Ratchet asked.

Lee shook her head, she looked at Dylan quietly. "No, as this is a first offense, I'll let him off with four day's detention. Starting tomorrow," She explained. "The next time he decides to throw a punch though? You can bet he will be, we have a zero-tolerance policy on fighting," She explained. "Do you understand me, Mr. Logan?"

"Yeah," Dylan slouched a bit. "It didn't make me feel much better anyway. So it's whatever."

Dylan blanked out the rest of the talk that they had, not really interested. He was feeling too sick to his stomach about it all anyway, quite frankly.

...

Waiting for Ratchet to return to his office after a surgery felt like a never ending cycle of fear. Dylan wasn't sure what Ratchet was going to say, not entirely anyway. He'd had a lot of bad experiences with anger and parental figures, honestly. So he sat in the cafeteria, eating the lunch he'd ordered when he noticed that First Aid was entering the room. He hadn't had much talks with his new "uncle" since the first day that they spent time together. Mostly because Ratchet had wanted him to settle in, so he shifted somewhat uncomfortably as he approached.

Of course, as a result, the first thing he did was stride over to him. His blue optics looking at him with curiosity as he seated himself down with an energon cube in his hand. "Primus, you sure got Ratchet all riled up. What's this I hear? You had a fight at school?"

Dylan was silent for a moment, before staring up at the mech. He wasn't sure how to respond, though he got the feeling the interest was genuine at least. Reminding himself that First Aid, according to Ratchet, did not do anything "halfway" and took family seriously. "Yeah, I had a fight with a snot-nosed, snobby little jerk," Dylan replied, his eyes moving away. "He found out about my dad and was spreading it around school... If you ask me, he had it coming."

First Aid raised his optic ridges, filled with a bit of anger at this. He definitely understood why his brother was so angry, considering he saw Dylan as his nephew. The thought of some kid tormenting him over something so personal... "What a little brat," He commented. "You okay? Need to talk about it?"

Dylan looked up at the mech, surprised. "Talk about it? You're busy, aren't you?"

First Aid scooted forward a bit, crossing his arms and smiling. This boy really did have a lot to learn about what living with a family was like. "Dylan, whether you've accepted it or not... You're my nephew," Dylan looked like he hadn't expected that response at all. "I know we've both been a bit nervous to approach each other. And I'm sorry, I'll try to do better there," He stated. "But you also should know I'm here to listen if you need me."

Dylan really didn't know how to respond to that either. First Aid wanted a better relationship than this? He considered him his nephew? He shifted a bit, and hung his head, wondering if he should trust this. "You don't have to if you don't want either. I just figured you needed someone to talk to who isn't Ratchet," He explained. "At least until he's calmed down..."

"... It just sucked," Dylan finally spoke, his voice quiet and sad. "In Jasper I had a fresh start. No one knew me, or what happened. Other than you, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Scarlet. And the next thing I know Shawn is asking me if it's true," He felt tears sting his eyes as he tried to blink them out. "That guy hates me and I don't know why... Bradley I mean. And he did this just to hurt me and it sucks."

First Aid nodded, though he looked at him calmly. "You know, a lot of kids who bully at school... Are bullied at home," He explained. "Maybe he's jealous because he's seen how happy you are lately. He wanted to know why you had been through hell, but weren't a miserable little twit like him. And he saw a chance to make you like him, and took it," Dylan was silent, he actually never thought of it like that. "It's a stupid reason, I know. But it happens more than you think."

Dylan shook his head, understanding a bit. "What does he have to be jealous of? He's rich, we all know it."

"Well, you have a father that's crazy about you. Even if he is angry at the moment, that hasn't changed," First Aid explained. "You've got a whole support group that's enjoying getting to know you. An uncle that wants to be a big part of your life," He then added. "You have someone there at home to spend time with you, talk to you, help with your homework. You're never hungry anymore, or lonely, I take it."

Dylan took all of that in, despite the no use of "foster" before father or uncle it was very true. Despite all his sadness right now, he did have a lot of things making his life better. "He's crazy about me, huh?" He asked honestly.

"You kidding? You think he's only raging about you fighting the kid?" First Aid asked, Dylan nodded. "Oh no, he was ready to tear the kid's head off. He just wouldn't tell me why, he was too angry," Dylan's stomach tightened, completely in disbelief that was the case. "He's angry at "Bradley", far, far, FAR more than at your actions."

So he was as angry as he looked in the office. Dylan took a deep breath, relieved at the thought of it. Ratchet probably was just being a parent in this situation, seeing both sides of things. He looked at First Aid quietly, and nodded his head. "Well, I guess I just never really thought about it. I mean he's been being more... Affectionate lately," Dylan replied. "He's starting to treat me like I've seen others treat their kids."

"That's the way you should be treated, Dylan," First Aid told him. "I know you don't understand that yet. Not after what you've gone through," He explained. "But love, real love an affection makes you feel good. Not hurt, or violated, or sad," He then explained. "Even if it's tough love like Ratchet's giving you now."

Love? Ratchet was showing him love? Dylan paused a moment, he didn't know what to think of that, at all. Was he even worth loving like that? He'd been told so often in his life, from different abusive families, about how worthless he was. How he could never, and would never understand what this thing people called "real love" was, because no one could ever love him. But was Ratchet coming to do just that? Coming to love him?

The sound of a whistle got his attention, noticing that Ratchet was in the doorway. Dylan swallowed, but looked back at First Aid. The mech nodded his head at him. "It'll be alright. Remember, nothing you do, or did, during that would make him kick you out if you're afraid of that," Then added. "Might as well get the lecture over with, right?"

It took Dylan a minute but he finally nodded. "Thanks First Aid," He began. "This conversation has been... Eye opening."

"Of course," First Aid nodded. "I'm here whenever you need to talk."

Dylan had a feeling he wouldn't doubt that anymore.

...

It turned out that Ratchet didn't want to have the conversation yet. Rather, in the conversation with First Aid, Dylan had nearly forgotten this chat with Dr. Brink he had to have. So there he was, about twenty minutes after his talk with his "uncle" and sitting in front of a desk across from a man in his forties. He looked friendly enough, but at the same time, Dylan did avoid quite a bit of eye contact. Instead, he kept his eyes lowered to the ground, away from the soft green eyes that looked at him.

"You know we can do this all day," He heard the man speak up, causing Dylan's head to shoot up. "I've had kids who have spent session after session sitting there silently. Heck, you had the decency to say "hi" to me which is already a step above most of my first sessions," Dylan chewed his lip absently. "But it's okay, if you don't want me to ask questions... Or talk really, that's okay. I can wait until you're ready."

Dylan grimaced slightly, what did this guy actually know? Had he ever even known what it was like? To be tortured, to go through severe pain, to be used in ways that were unspeakable. "I can tell you a little bit about my experience first, if you'd like," Dylan looked at him suspiciously. "I was... Actually about your age when I was taken away too. I had a mom and dad, but my mom was sick," He explained, a frown on his face. "She started abusing me in "that" way early on. And it got so bad that, eventually, my dad left her with me... He couldn't take it."

"Your dad ran out on you?" Dylan gaped. "And left you with...?"

"Yeah, pretty awful right? He was young, and he was selfish," Brink explained, he chewed his lip. "My mom continued worse after that. For her, I was a substitute because I looked so much like him," He then explained. "Then when I was five, I finally got the courage to tell my uncle. After that, he and his wife took me in and raised me as their own. And now.. I try to help kids like myself to overcome the same things I went through."

A substitution, Dylan shifted uncomfortably. That was an all too familiar word that struck a chord with Dylan. Probably because his father had used to describe him more than a few times. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," Dylan told him. "Not when you use that word."

"Why? Did Eugene use that word to describe you?"

"Stop."

"Because you weren't a replacement, Dylan. You were a child, you are a child," Brink explained to him. "Calling you a replacement was his way of justifying the vile things he did to you," Dylan still didn't look back at up at the doctor. "The sooner you realize that, the better."

Dylan gripped his pant legs slightly, it was really hard to believe that. After all, it was his fault his mom was dead. His "father" had always told him how she'd died giving birth to him. It had been his fault, it had always been his fault. Even now, that voice continued to ring through his brain as he held the sides of his head. He trembled slightly, trying to calm himself but finding it increasingly harder. "Dylan. Dylan?" He heard a voice poke out of his haze.

 _"It's your fault I do this, you little shit!"_

 _"If Jane was alive, I would NEVER need to resort to this."_

 _"You're worthless... WORTHLESS!"_

Dylan could hear himself whimpering but he just continued to shake, trying to get himself out of the episode. But he couldn't, that word had triggered it and now... "DYLAN!" He heard a scream. "It's alright, Dylan, come back here, come back to us," He felt a gentle shake.

Finally, Ratchet, who Brink had called in as soon as the trigger word had started an episode, was able to bring him out of it. But Dylan had already had enough, he got to his feet, storming out of the room as Ratchet's holoform watched. "What the pit happened!?" Ratchet asked haughtily. "I brought him here for your help! Not to traumatize him."

Brink looked at Ratchet with a look of pure exhaustion. "I'm afraid Dylan's case is a little more serious than I thought. I can't, legally, tell you why. But the fact such a word triggered that bad of a shutdown..." Brink rubbed the bridge of his nose slightly. "Dylan's trauma from the abuse, sexual and otherwise, clearly runs very deep. And I'm afraid that though it was extreme, this reaction gave me a good idea of where I need to start with him."

Ratchet grunted, though his face turned up into more of a scowl. "You think I'm bringing him back to you after THAT!?"

"Ratchet, I'm afraid if I can't get to him. There are very few people who can," Those words hit Ratchet hard, honestly. "At least not in this city. In other cities, maybe, my own psychiatrist is in Philadelphia," The mech's eyes softened. "But I know exactly what Dylan is going through. Years ago, I was Dylan. And it took me a long time to open up, the fact he has with you even in small ways already astounds me."

Ratchet's eyes softened, his real form peering at the young human that had stopped to sit in a chair. Brink leaned forward quietly, his eyes meeting Ratchet's own. "Dylan needs help. Help from someone who can put themselves in his shoes and not just try to," Ratchet paused, he leaned back slowly. "I can help him, I know I can. But I won't be able to unless he comes to me... I'd say probably bi-weekly. Whether he wants to or not, I can put him through the same rigorous therapy I went through."

Ratchet was silent, looking at Brink. For some reason, he trusted this man at his word. Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the way he carried himself. But either way, this was the first psychiatrist that Dylan had seen that didn't seem to find Dylan's attitude a turn-off. And by far, the first to seem like they were really keen on helping Dylan. He needed that, he needed to know that whoever he was hiring would help Dylan, and treat him with the same softness that he did.

They stood there for a long moment before Ratchet spoke again. "I just want to know," Ratchet began. "That you're sure you can, and want, to help him."

"I do," Brink nodded his head. "Same as I want to help every child that comes through this door. It hurts me to see anyone go through what I did in my childhood. Lucky for Dylan, like me, he has someone in his life who cares enough to get him help," He then explained. "You've already taken the first step to helping him recover," He explained. "Now let me try to help him along."

Ratchet looked at the man, then sighed. He knew that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, and if things only got worse with Dylan, he could always go elsewhere. "Alright, so where do I go to make another session," He sighed quietly.

...

"I can't have you fighting like that, Dylan."

Dylan was on the bed in his room, halfway through "Of Mice and Men", when Ratchet came in that night to talk to him. He sighed, he guessed that Ratchet had to come and talk to him eventually. He looked up at his foster father quietly. "He deserved it, we both know that," He told him bluntly. "Can't we just leave it at that?"

Ratchet gave the boy a look, taking two fingers and plucking the book from his hands. "That is not going to happen," Ratchet replied with a grunt. "No son of mine is going to go around picking fights. No matter what that pit spawn did to you," He explained. "You cannot go around answering your problems with your fists."

Dylan rolled his eyes, there was the "s" word again. And this time, Ratchet hung it over his head like he had something to live up to. He turned over on his side, but to no avail as Ratchet moved around the bed to look at him. "Alright, I get it, I screwed up. But what's the big deal? Plenty of adult men in my life settled things with fists," He added, sitting up on his bed. "My dad, a few of my foster dads..."

"Yeah, and where did that get them?" Dylan went silent at that. "And why do I feel like most of those fists your father threw were at you?"

Dylan felt his fists clench, but tried to regain control. Unfortunately, he didn't quite succeed, standing to his feet. He looked at Ratchet with frustration. "What do you care!? Seriously, you're the one that throws wrenches. Are you any better?" Dylan asked in frustration. "Stop acting like any of this matters to you!"

"It matters because I don't want you to grow up angry like I did," Ratchet countered.

Dylan gritted his teeth slightly, now he was getting frustrated. He rubbed the temples of his forehead. "Stop, you can just stop. You don't have to parent me about every little thing!" Dylan shouted. "Quit pretending like the stuff I do actually bothers you. Getting Fist Aid to give me that talk was a nice touch. But you're overdoing it. No one cares this much about a foster kid, literally, no one."

"I didn't make First Aid do anything," Ratchet replied, making Dylan's eyes widen. "That was all him, because he cares. And for that matter," He began pointing at him. "Dylan, I DO care. And this matters to me because _I love you_."

Those words hung in the air, making Dylan freeze where he was standing. Those were three words Dylan had never heard in his life. Every time a parent associated love with him, it was in a negative context. "This is how all parents love their children." was the most frequent that his father had used. But those three words, said in a way he'd heard, and been confused by so many times around other families... Families that had always had some other definition of "love" he'd never found before.

Dylan tried to bring out his thoughts, but found himself stammering. "Excuse me?" He finally managed.

"I lecture you... I do all of these things for you. Because I love you, Dylan," Ratchet replied. "I don't expect to be told that in return. But I'm tired of beating around the bush with myself, and with you. You're like a sparkling to me, and Primus knows I want to do right by you," He explained. "Everything I do is because I love you, Dylan, and I want to see you grow up into a strong young man. Not angry at the world, or violent. But someone you can be proud of too."

Dylan took a few steps backward, he tried in vain to completely absorb his words. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a warm sensation in his heart. A happiness, unlike anything he'd felt after that first time Ratchet had hugged him. They stood there for what felt like hours with a deep silence between them. "Alright," Dylan paused for a moment. "I'll uh... I'll try to stop fighting if it means that much to you."

"You will stop fighting."

Dylan nodded his head slowly, taking a deep, inward breath. "Alright, I... It won't happen again."

Ratchet got the feeling that was all that Dylan could find within his mind to say. Perhaps it was the shock, perhaps it was the confusion. But either way, he decided to take it, and nodded his head slowly. "That's better," There was a silence again. "Dylan..."

"Can I uh, be alone for a bit?" Dylan asked. "I think I kinda need that."

Ratchet only nodded his head, turning to exit the room. "Alright then," Ratchet replied. "Dinner will be ready soon."

As Ratchet left, Dylan could only stand there silently with himself. He could only wonder, silently, whether it was true or not. Even if in his spark, Ratchet knew he had said the right thing.


	15. Real Progress

A/N: Thanks again to my amazing beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for betaing my three chapters I've been working on in my silent days! LOL

I'm glad to get three chapters out to you guys. But the next one will be a little later in coming. It's a Christmas chapter, so expect it around Christmastime! :D

Repost because something was being buggy just a heads up, no difference just testing to see if it's fixed now.

...

 **CHAPTER 15**  
 **Real Progress**

A few weeks later, when things couldn't have gotten any more awkward, Dylan woke up vomiting. At first, he wasn't sure if it was his anxiety that he still felt over the "I love you" comment or not. But by the third time he found himself huddled over the toilet, he realized it was not that at all. The fourth time, he heard the door creek open quietly, and felt a giant metal hand over his back. He groaned, looking up at Ratchet who looked at him in concern.

"Easy, Dylan," Ratchet told him quietly. "How long have you been up like this?"

Dylan groaned, of course, the mech had to be a medic. Because now he knew he was running a million diagnostics over something as simple as... Well, there went another gag. He whimpered quietly, he hated being sick, but he hated having someone hovering over him as well. "An hour maybe," Dylan replied. "I just woke up and couldn't stop."

Ratchet nodded his head, he could tell the boy had a stomach virus. One that was probably going to give him hell for a while, but he was thankful was nothing serious. He sighed quietly, knowing that the boy was going to fight him no matter what he said, but knew he had to anyway. "I've got a drinkable medicine that should help your stomach," Ratchet told him calmly. "But you're going to HAVE to drink it."

Dylan grimaced, he didn't want to deal with that. He opened his mouth to throw a child-like fit, but instead, out came a belch. He groaned, he didn't want to be helped, he was fine. He could take care of himself, as he had many times. Especially in the attic where his father would do nothing for him, and he'd sometimes be up there for days like this. "Dylan," He felt something touch against his lips, finding a cup with some sort of substance. "Drink for me."

"No."

"That wasn't a request."

Dylan gritted his teeth a little, but still, Ratchet tipped the cup. And down came the cream colored liquid that tasted almost like paste to Dylan. He choked slightly, but Ratchet rubbed his back with his fingertips gently. "I know, it tastes like slag," The medic told him. "But it fights the stomach virus faster and harder than ANY human-made medicine."

Dylan heaved again, and the process continued for close to an hour. He hated to admit it, but the doctor's medicine had taken effect quickly. Even if he still felt sick and his body weak. He felt strong arms wrap around his waist, and hoist him up as Ratchet's holoform helped him towards his bed when he stopped hurling. "That should get you through the night. Sleep as long as you can, with your one-hundred and three fever you won't be going to school," The medic told him as he helped him into bed. "If you vomit any more, I got you this," He held up a metal bucket. "In case you can't make it."

Dylan grunted in response, as Ratchet's real form came inside to check on him first-hand. He was clearly in the middle of talking on the comm link to someone. "He's running a really high fever. Yes, First Aid can handle my appointments. Or people can reschedule," He stated. "My son is my first priority, and if they can't see that that's their issue."

"Don't!" Dylan told him with a cry of confusion. "I can take care of myself."

"You're running a high fever, and spent three hours vomiting," Ratchet told him, his voice stern and without even a hint of giving in. "There's no way in pit I'm going into work tomorrow. There's only one important patient for me to be taking care of," He explained.

"You see politicians."

"And you're my family," Ratchet replied. "I'll be slagged before I leave you alone."

And with that, Ratchet left before he could argue it any further. Dylan grimaced, the mech sure was learning how to keep him at bay. But he didn't think long about it, until he finally found himself falling asleep. When he woke up in the morning, he felt like hell, and for good reason he supposed. He was running a fever, after all, and the way the sweat dripped down his face, he could tell.

He tried to stand to his feet, but immediately nearly tripped over his own feet. Deciding quietly to lay down, he heard the door creek open, and could see that Ratchet was still there. Why? Why was he so concerned? He'd been sick like this before. Dylan quietly closed his eyes, as if he were asleep to see what he would do. To his surprise, he felt a cold, wet rag laid on his head, and a gentle stroking of his hair.

The boy tried not to blink, but he found it hard with how surprised he was. The mech wasn't making it up the day before, he really was worried, really, truly concerned. What was with that? It was just a stomach virus, he'd get over it. Yet Ratchet adjusted, and fluffed up his pillows, he carefully pulled the blankets closer to his chin, and he ran a hand gently along his hair again. He was making sure that Dylan was comfortable.

"Your fever is still pretty high," Ratchet informed him, confirming he knew he was awake. "How are you feeling?"

Dylan, his eyes now opening proceeded to reply by vomiting into the bucket he'd left him. Ratchet frowned, rubbing the boy's back as he seated himself behind him in holoform. The mech sighed, quietly watching as the boy purged, he was certainly going to have one heck of a time getting better. "Primus, whatever got you, got you good," He commented. "Let me go get more of that medicine."

Dylan only groaned, it was going to be a long few days.

...

Ratchet didn't go back to work the next day, or the next one. Instead he was dutifully there, working to help Dylan get a little better each day. The third day, he had to go into work, but First Aid was there since it was his day off. After that, Ratchet came back on the fourth day, the first day he'd been doing much better, despite the fact he was still gagging. He had a blanket around his shoulders, sitting in front of the TV in the den with a cup of hot chicken broth.

He hated to say it, but Ratchet was doing a good job of taking care of him, as had First Aid. That day, they were both there, actually, given First Aid had made a habit of coming over every Saturday since their little talk. He sighed quietly, he also hated to say it, but he was starting to not mind having someone taking care of him for once. Dylan tried to take that feeling in quietly, slightly disbelieving, but also knowing it was the good, honest truth.

"Finished?" Ratchet questioned as Dylan nodded. "Good."

Dylan looked at Ratchet quietly, then took a deep intake of breath. He wasn't sure how to say he was wrong, or that he was sorry. But either way, he finally opened his mouth and began to speak. "Ratchet, thank you. You know, for this," He told him. "I know I fought you, but I actually feel a lot better. Especially better than I would have on my own."

Ratchet smirked triumphantly, clearly having wanted to hear that from the beginning. He stared at the boy quietly for a moment, then shook his head. "No one should be alone when they're this young, or this sick," He told him calmly. "I don't know what you went through with that man when you were sick. But I'm your father now, and I care about seeing you get better."

Dylan tried again not to think about it, especially the nights he'd spent in an attic that wreaked of vomit. He closed his eyes, pushing his tears as far back as he could. He continued to hate thinking about it, because honestly, the more he thought about it these days, the more upset he became. "If I told you what I went through," Dylan began honestly. "I don't think I could keep you... Or most anyone, from killing him."

"What makes you say that?"

Dylan was silent for a long moment, unsure of what to say in response. The moment where he betrayed his trust, and looked under his shirt, ran through his mind again. Yet, the more Ratchet did for him, the more Dylan wanted to believe he could be trusted. "I don't know," Dylan muttered. "Just things."

Dylan avoided eye contact with his foster father, hoping he wouldn't pry any further. To his surprise, Ratchet didn't, he simply went back to what he was doing. Dylan looked at him for a long moment, maybe he had learned his lesson. Not for the whole story, but at least some details at least. "I didn't... Have a bedroom," Dylan explained. "So I used to sleep on the floor... In my dad's attic," He explained. "He didn't come up much unless he wanted something from me... So if I got sick like this I was kind of, covered in it sometimes..."

Ratchet felt physically sick at the revelation, his optics looking at Dylan. Imagining what it would be like to be confined to an attic, let alone left in your own waste like that. He tried to calm himself down, though looking down, he could see a small dent forming in the island he was gripping. Venting out quietly, he looked over at Dylan, stepped over, and carefully placed three fingers on his shoulder. "You're right, if I could get my hands on him, I would let him have it," Ratchet told him quietly. "Because that is the most vile thing I have ever heard."

"I went through worse," Dylan replied with an equal level of quietness.

"I don't doubt it," Ratchet told him. "I won't pry though. Whenever you're ready to tell me the rest of the reasons I would kill him... I'll listen," He explained.

Dylan nodded his head, sipping the broth again. He knew he wasn't going to spill anything more, he'd already said more than he wanted to. But he knew, somewhere deep down, that he was going to tell Ratchet the rest eventually. But today wasn't that day, and if it ever came, it was going to be on his own terms, he told himself. "So, I've got plenty of choices for a solid movie night," First Aid chimed in as he entered the den. "A couple of horror movies, those old Star Wars epics... Oh, sorry have I walked in on something?" He asked, noting the looks on their faces.

Dylan and Ratchet gave each other a look, was there anything more to say on the matter? Dylan shook his head after a few more seconds, looking up at his "uncle" quietly. "Nah, it's okay, we were just talking," Dylan told him. "Can we watch Star Wars? I still haven't seen those, but Shawn says I just "have to"," He told him with an eye roll.

"Did my nephew just eye roll at Star Wars?" First Aid asked Ratchet with a look of pure horror. "Oh child, you are going to regret that by the time we're done."

Dylan laughed a little, looking at his uncle with a lopsided smirk. The mech sure could be a nerd when he wanted to be, as he was starting to learn. But really, Dylan could be too so it was okay. "So if I dislike it, what are you going to do?" Dylan asked. "Make me watch it over and over again until I do?"

"It took Ratchet about three watches to admit he liked it," First Aid replied jokingly.

The look on Ratchet's face said that wasn't true at all. And for his part, Dylan was pretty sure Ratchet was the last person who would fully enjoy a movie like that. "I said that they were watchable," Ratchet corrected his brother as he took a seat beside Dylan in his holoform. "Honestly, I don't see the appeal of any movies. They're all the same, and play out on the same formula."

Dylan looked at Ratchet with surprise at that one. Who didn't like movies? Sure, he understood not liking certain types, but any? "But they're just like books. You get to escape to different... Different," Dylan felt himself gagging, but Ratchet had already prepared his bucket, holding it up to him. "Worlds," He stated before purging some more.

Ratchet shook his head, rubbing the child's back gingerly. "TV and movies just rot the processor if you ask me," He replied as he tapped the side of his holoform's head. "That's why I try to keep you from watching too much of it. When you're sick and stuck to the couch it's one thing. But..."

"Wow, Ratchet, you restrict his TV time?"

"I keep him occupied with other things," Ratchet explained to First Aid.

Dylan knew that was true, and he didn't mind that much. Considering, in all reality, he never watched much TV to begin with. He sighed quietly, leaning back as he tilted his head towards Ratchet. "TV doesn't rot the brain really. There's just usually nothing that great on to begin with," He admitted, blowing a bang of his hair away. "And it's by my own choice, seriously."

Ratchet smirked, that made him thankful, given his obvious concern for the child's health and well-being. Now if only he could get him to have that same attitude with junk food. "Speaking of health, though, any more coming?" Ratchet asked, Dylan shook his head. "Good, lay down, relax your body."

Dylan shifted a bit, laying against the arm rest, crossing his arms. He looked over as First Aid put on the movie on the holoscreen calmly. "You two are really going to be an interesting pair to have a movie marathon with," He laughed lightly. "Do you restrict his movies too big bro because a few of these are R-rated?"

Ratchet gave the mech a look that said "What do you think?", and Dylan chuckled a little himself. The two of them were fun to be around when they were together, with their opposing views and all. "Oh come on Ratch, loosen the leash," First Aid told him. "I've got The Evil Dead, Night of the Living Dead, Psycho..."

"On what planet would I ever let my son watch that much nudity and gore? And for that matter, since when do you watch it?"

"I don't," First Aid replied. "But I hear human teenager's like this stuff!"

"Well in my house, the age restriction on the movie applies."

"Fine," First Aid threw his hands up. "Sorry bud, I'm outvoted."

"My life used to be enough of a horror movie anyway," Dylan told him. "Can we just put on Star Wars?"

First Aid laughed, nodding his head a bit, and putting the movie on. Several minutes later, when neither left, Dylan felt a warmth inside him he never had before. Sure, they'd had dinner, and hung out before, at least since First Aid's conversation, but this was even more intimate. This, well, it felt more like what he had expected that family was supposed to feel like.

They were mid-way through the second movie when Dylan felt a blanket fall over him. He hadn't even noticed that he was cold, but Ratchet was upon him within seconds. Dylan stared at Ratchet for a long moment, and began to slowly, carefully scoot over to him. The mech looked surprised but gently moved him enough that the boy could rest his head on his lap, and to his surprise, Dylan didn't fight it. He simply pulled his legs closer to his chest, and watched the movie.

The medic watched for a long moment, expecting Dylan to move, but he didn't. Instead, he was doing something that Ratchet hadn't expected out of him. For the first time in months, Dylan was seeking his comfort, seeking him out for affection, and for the closeness of his holoform... Dylan, he realized, was putting his trust, and faith in him. And for that matter, letting him know that it was okay if he wanted to return it, whether it was because he was sick or not.

Being careful, Ratchet reached his arm to the boy's back. He knew that was the safest area that Dylan would not shy away from, and thus carefully began to run a hand along it. Dylan shifted a little under him, but didn't move the rest of the night, and eventually, after the movies were over. Ratchet noticed he had fallen asleep like that, intentionally, without any sign of fear or fidgeting.

It was the smallest action that held the largest of proofs he was finally getting somewhere with Dylan.

...

It turned out that after First Aid left for the night, Ratchet had been too nervous to move. So when Dylan woke up the next morning, he found himself on the couch, his head still rested on his guardian's lap. If he were to tell the truth, he was surprised at himself for trusting Ratchet enough to do what he did, but at the same time he wasn't. Ratchet had earned his trust the last few days, perhaps not all of it, but enough. Enough that he felt a certain level of safety and security in the presence of the older mech.

He pushed the blanket away silently, pulling himself up. He knew that Ratchet was a heavy recharger by now, so he didn't worry that he'd wake him as he stepped into the kitchen. His mind took in what he'd just accepted to himself. It was scary, thinking that he could put his trust in anyone but himself. Yet, his mind had been fighting him about this ever since Ratchet had told him that he loved him. In a way, he worried that he was honestly growing weak, and that he could be taken advantage of.

The other part remembered how he'd taken care of him the last few days. The way he had stroked his back the night before, and never once tried anything on him while he slept. The more time he spent in his house, he realized, the more that side of him seemed to be winning over his mind and heart. He made his breakfast as he thought, trying to keep his stomach under control. He supposed the fact that he hadn't thrown up much lately absolutely helped.

It was another twenty minutes when he heard Ratchet come into the kitchen. The mech looked at him quietly, a smile on his face. "Sleep well, youngling?" He asked. "Sorry I left you on the couch. But you seemed to be so at peace. It would have been a shame to wake you up."

Dylan shook his head a bit. "It's okay, sorry for falling asleep on you."

"I didn't mind," Ratchet told him honestly. "I'm your guardian, you were feeling sick... And you wanted comfort. That's normal for youngling's of any age, Dylan," He explained, to which the boy nodded slowly, pursing his lips. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you can trust me."

Dylan didn't say anything to give away the fact that he was beginning to learn that. He wanted to, but he knew that doing it now could doom the whole thing. For all he knew, things could still fall apart, they could still go wrong. He had to ride it out until he knew for sure he was okay. "Is it your day off today? Because if not I'm feeling a lot better," Dylan replied. "I can take it from here."

Ratchet looked at Dylan, noticing that the boy was definitely carrying himself better. Shaking his head, he took a few steps forward. "It's my day off, which is good. Because like it or not, you still need time to recover," Ratchet explained. "I think that by tomorrow though, you'll be alright. Given your bio signs seem to point in that direction."

"Then you'll go back to work?" Dylan asked.

Ratchet paused for a moment, taking out a cube of energon. He took a slow sip of it, looking down at him, and giving a look in his optics. "Only if you are, in fact, feeling well enough," Ratchet explained. "If your fever is completely gone, I'll let you stay home. So long as you keep yourself resting for school on Monday," He explained. "If not, I'll keep taking care of you."

Dylan opened his mouth to argue again, but slowly closed it. He was starting to see the fact that it was useless arguing with Ratchet on this. He leaned back slightly, hearing as his stomach gurgled a little, and looking up at Ratchet. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for him to stop worrying about being so tough all the time. If he could trust Ratchet well enough to do what he did last night... Maybe, he needed to stop worrying about looking tough. Maybe, he needed to start accepting that he had someone to take care of him now.

"Ratchet? You have any more of that medicine? You know, that you've been giving me?"

Ratchet smiled slightly, having his holoform go into a cabinet, and grab it. He slowly brought it towards Dylan, who took it silently. He knew that it tasted awful, but he also knew that it was helping. And frankly, he really didn't want to continue feeling sick like he did. So instead of arguing, he took a sip of Ratchet's medicine, he sat himself down at a chair, and let himself relax a little.

Of course, there were still things he wasn't sure he could trust Ratchet with. Things that he thought he might never be able to trust Ratchet with, honestly. But now, well, Dylan was going to start putting his trust in Ratchet, just a little more. Because if he meant what he said those weeks ago, that he "loved" him, maybe this was someone he could trust to take care of him more than he had the others. Ratchet seemed to put more and more effort than anyone else had, after all.

And though Ratchet may not have realized it, the more he did. The more he started to look at the mech as a father. Whether Dylan admitted it to himself, or not.


	16. The First Christmas

A/N: Thanks to my awesome beta, **TFPKOFANGIRL** , for her awesome work on this chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 16  
The First Christmas  
**

Christmas had always been a tense time for Dylan, so it didn't help him that it was coming around so soon.

Ratchet had been unusually cheery, and it actually seemed a little odd to Dylan, in all honesty. And then came the house, which Ratchet and First Aid had been decorating for Christmas. Dylan didn't understand why really, he'd never had a real Christmas in his entire life. But all the same his new "family" seemed keen on giving him an authentic, "real" Christmas. Dylan tried to hide the fact that he didn't even know what that meant, but he had a feeling they already knew.

All the same, it was nice to see a bright and cheerful Christmas look in a place like this. In other places, it always felt empty to him, since no one really gave him much on Christmas. It was all mostly for the biological kids, or at least in his mind it was. But here, there were none, and Dylan felt a little glimmer of hope at that. Yet at the same time, he knew that Ratchet might have been a little out of his element. Sure, he had been around for plenty of Christmas's, but did he really celebrate, at least until now?

Yet there he was that morning, putting the finishing touches on the house. Namely, stockings, even though he should have known Santa Claus was not something Dylan believed in. He still seemed to insist that they would do the Santa Claus traditions too. Dylan sighed quietly, stepping over to him, and looking up at the stockings quietly. "Hey Ratchet," He called up, trying to be friendly about it. "How's it coming?"

"Tedious," Ratchet admitted. "But I think it looks fine."

Dylan had to admit, all of the decorations didn't look too bad for two people having their first Christmas. In fact, it looked cozy, despite how awkward this all felt. He sighed quietly, putting his hands in his pockets. "It looks nice, Ratchet," He finally spoke. "But still, you don't have to do all of this. I've never-."

"Had a "real" Christmas, I know," Ratchet grunted. "And that's not fragging right. Just like you never having a "real" creation day isn't," He looked at Dylan. "We're fixing that while you're here."

Dylan supposed he had to stop fighting it. Clearly, Ratchet was going to do whatever it took to see that he got what he'd been missing out on. Birthdays, Christmas, he'd already gone through Thanksgiving, as small an affair as that had been... Dylan wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the fact he was so sure he now "loved" Dylan. "Alright, I won't fight you," Dylan grunted. "Mostly because I know it's useless."

Ratchet smirked slightly at that, the boy was certainly starting to learn things like that. The mech approached his foster son, crouching down and inclining his head. It was his symbol that he wanted to touch him, something that they had worked out since their relationship had grown more affectionate. Dylan nodded in return, and Ratchet hoisted him onto his shoulder with his hand.

Dylan was getting better used to the feeling of the height now. And what's more, he definitely felt less scared of the touch, though there were still times he felt some fear. He supposed that week when he was sick really had changed things for the better. He hated to say it, he hated to feel it, but he felt something around Ratchet that he'd never felt before. He felt like he belonged, and like he could actually rely upon this mech in ways he never thought he could rely upon anyone else.

And that, at the end of the day, was why he let Ratchet do this for him. "So, we're gonna get that tree decorated tonight, right? First Aid's coming?" Ratchet nodded his head in response, and Dylan smirked. "Alright, but I hope I do okay. I mean, all I know is what I've seen in movies."

Ratchet snorted, looking over at Dylan with a chuckle. "I only know what I've been taught myself. But those ornaments shouldn't be too hard to get up there," He explained. "Then I'll have some place to put the gifts I got you," He explained.

Dylan's eyes shot up, Ratchet actually had gotten him gifts? That was a great surprise to him, and one that was a good thing. He put his hands on his knees, taking a deep breath, and resting his head against the crook of his neck. "You really didn't have to get me anything y'know," He explained. "Just knowing I'm spending Christmas in a home where I don't feel like a burden is a nice enough gift."

Ratchet smiled, it was good to hear things like that out of him. He shook his head slightly putting his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath. "I know the feeling. We had holidays on Cybertron too. And I felt the same way my first one with Siren," He explained. "But, I digress, I'm still going to spoil you rotten this Christmas, like it or not," He snorted. "It's my first Christmas with my son after all."

Dylan tried to push away the negative connotations that came with that word. They were all still there at times, but again, getting better by the day. He was getting better by the day, he realized. Though he had fought it, he could slowly realize things were getting easier for him. "Yeah, I get you. I guess it's kind of my first Christmas with some actual semblance of a family too," Dylan nodded. "So, want to start opening up the ornaments at least? I want to see what the stuff we got looks like."

Ratchet grinned, and then turned to go and find the objects. "I believe that is a good idea."

...

As the days passed Ratchet worked hard to make sure that this Christmas was perfect. The stress of it was odd to him, as he had never really thought much of the Holiday before. Sure, he and First Aid spent it together, and the Autobots got together Christmas night to exchange gifts and celebrate together. But for the first time, he was now working on making Christmas Eve/Day itself something festive and wonderful. Which meant searching high and low for the perfect gifts to put under the tree, the right stocking stuffers, and most of all securing the fact he was absolutely not to be called in on Christmas Eve or Day.

Dylan helped when he could, but Ratchet also had to do some things by himself. Such as figuring out what gifts to get him, which he was doing now. It was a bit of predicament really, given Dylan didn't really specify what he wanted. If nothing else, the boy was humble, not wanting to ask for expensive gifts, but none-the-less, Ratchet had already spent a good deal of money on what he knew Dylan would like, but dared not ask for. The video game console he'd been eyeing for weeks, and a few of the latest "hot" (as the sales associate had put it) games that were "making waves" on the market, whatever that meant.

He'd gotten some new paints that he knew he'd like too, and a couple of films. And while he knew he wasn't quite done, having only covered a few stores in the mall, he'd hoped he'd made headway as he collapsed onto a chair in the food court. He'd been mid-way through an Energon cube when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and a hand placed itself on his shoulder. "Odd to see you around this place at Christmastime."

Ratchet stood to his feet slowly, and turned to greet the figure with a firm, warm handshake. Honestly, he couldn't be sure what Prowl was doing there, but it had been a while since he'd seen him. In fact, he'd ironically realized that the last time he'd seen him had been the day he'd taken Dylan in for the graffiti. "Yeah, well, I have quite the amount of shopping to do," Ratchet explained. "Shopping for the family? I heard Bluestreak's having a sparkling with his bondmate."

Prowl showed the faintest of smiles, nodding his head, and taking a seat in front of Ratchet. "That's accurate. Little one's due in January. So I figured I'd get some "sparkling shopping" done," Ratchet nodded, knowing that had to be fun, though he'd never known such joys. "Shopping for First Aid?"

"No, I got his present already," Ratchet replied honestly. "I'm shopping for the other part of my family."

"The other part? Did First Aid get bonded too?"

Ratchet crinkled his nose a bit, surprised that Prowl wasn't wondering where his young troublemaker had been. Then again, with people like the twins out there, he supposed he had plenty of them to think about. "No. You know an odd thing happened after that day you convinced me to let Dylan Logan off easy," Prowl nodded his head, though he didn't seem to be totally following. "He ended up taking residence in my home before his first month with the group was done."

Prowl looked as though he'd been floored by the statement. And no doubt he had been, as Ratchet would not be surprised to find out that he knew about Dylan's history. "Well, that was unexpected!" Prowl told him after a moment of silence. "I thought when you got that foster-to-adopt license you were going to go for a younger age. But going from sparklingless to an almost fifteen year old..."

"I know, but it wasn't as hard a decision as you'd think," Ratchet told him honestly. "Once you get to know him, he's such a bright young man. And the way he was being treated by his foster family was unacceptable," He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back. "Didn't take long for me to fall in love with the kid either. He's got his fair share of troubles. But since he's been with me, he's stopped tagging, improved his grades, made friends..."

Prowl shook his head, looking even more dumbfounded now. "Well, I'm happy for you. I always thought Dylan was a bright kid who needed some straightening out," Ratchet nodded, that sounded about right. "So, shopping for him, huh? That must be tough only knowing him for a few months."

Ratchet chuckled, his thoughts exactly. Yet he also knew that Dylan probably would have been happy with even just a couple of new pieces of clothes. "He didn't even want me to bother. Refused to give me a list," Ratchet explained. "But this is apparently his first... Christmas that he's getting more than one gift," He explained. "Apparently his foster families weren't very giving. And his father, well..."

"So you found out about that, eh?" Prowl asked, his optics meeting his friend's. "Well, at least he's getting a Christmas now. Logic dictates every child should have fond memories of these times of year. Of family, happiness, the joy of waking up to find Santa visited," He explained. "Though it's a little late for Santa."

"Very," Ratchet agreed. "Now if only teenagers weren't so hard to figure out gifts for."

Prowl shrugged his shoulders, looking off in the distance for a moment. He looked at Ratchet with a smile that spoke volumes, and gave Ratchet the impression he could help. "I've learned it's not so hard since Jazz has been back on Earth. He's basically an overgrown teenager, and we're practically brothers, so I have to shop for him every year. I'm sure I could help a little."

Ratchet wasn't able to hold back his chuckling. After all, Prowl wasn't exactly known for being the number one fun mech around. In fact, at this point, he was starting to wish he had thought about calling Jazz or Bumblebee and having them help. "Nah, go and shop for your niece or nephew, Prowl," Ratchet told him. "I've got Dylan covered, I just need some things that can feel sentimental. Something to remember our first Christmas together."

"Good luck finding something sentimental for an adolescent."

Ratchet couldn't help himself from chuckling again as he stood to his feet, and Prowl did as well. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna need it," He replied honestly, putting his hands on his hips. "And good luck to your sparkling shopping. Since of all mech's in the world I think would struggle with it, it'd be you," He added playfully.

"Maybe so," Prowl laughed a little himself, as Ratchet started away. "But if you ask me. A kid like Dylan doesn't need anything flashy or expensive," He added. "Sentimental doesn't always mean that."

Ratchet nodded, taking a walk away from Prowl as he thought over what he'd just said. Maybe he was right, he was here looking for something sentimental and "cool" to buy. But really, Ratchet had already bought him a treasure trove of those, maybe now it was time for him to start looking for the truly meaningful gifts that wouldn't break his bank. A thought he let sink in as he continued down the rows of shops.

Hopefully he would figure it out.

...

Christmas morning made all the stress of the holiday worth it, at least for Ratchet. The look on Dylan's face when he got downstairs to see a stuffed stocking on top of his gifts was magical in and of itself. Coupling that with the pile of First Aid's presents that he had brought over, and Dylan had to be assured that most of the gifts were for him. Given he had never had anyone go through so much trouble, nor had he seen so many presents that didn't belong to someone else, before.

Watching Dylan was almost like watching a baby take his first steps. Every time he got a new present, he'd look over at Ratchet as if for confirmation it was okay. Watching his face light up at the barrage of Ratchet's gifts brought the biggest smile to Ratchet's face that he'd had in a while. It felt good to know that he could put the big smile on Dylan's face that he had, to make him feel like he was worth spending money like this on.

First Aid's gifts were like a barrage of it too, as he wasted no time in spoiling Dylan. The boy found a collection of all the films that they'd watched, and he'd loved. A flashy, brand new cell phone that Ratchet had approved of as Dylan had been holding on to an old, cracked, beat up one. And finally, a brand new skateboard that Dylan had practically danced around about, given it was top of the line, and straight from the collection of some skater that Ratchet had already forgotten the name of.

Ratchet and First Aid exchanged gifts as well. Ratchet had gotten some new books to read, which First Aid had picked out from the "data pad books" section that consisted of some his favorite authors works. While Ratchet had gotten First Aid the new, top-of-the-line medical tools he had put off buying to get the gifts for Dylan and he knew it. But what surprised Ratchet the most was when Dylan reached behind his remaining gift from Ratchet, and pulled out two, crudely wrapped packages.

Both mech's moved forward to help Dylan as they were rather large. But Ratchet could only look at First Aid with surprise as he noticed that they were for them. The older medic stared down at his foster son with a look of surprise, and a knowing twinkle. "Dylan, you didn't have to buy me anything," Ratchet told him. "I-."

"I didn't," Dylan replied. "I uh... I painted it."

Ratchet was very curious, but activated his holoform and quietly tore off the wrapping paper to uncover a piece of artwork indeed. It was a portrait of Ratchet himself, and the mech now had a feeling that First Aid's had been one of him. And though Ratchet's eyes only faintly betrayed it, he felt warmth at the fact that Dylan had taken the time to paint it. He'd noticed that as he expected, Dylan was getting great with painting, given it could've passed for someone older than he was.

And though First Aid had a bright smile on his face, Dylan still spoke up nervously, his voice cracking. "I know it isn't that great," He told them. "But you guys have been so kind to me. And I just... I never really thank you enough. So I wanted to do something for you on Christmas," He explained. "If you want I could take them back and-."

Ratchet wrapped his arm around the boy and held him close. Hugging him tightly, and giving a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "I love it, Dylan," Ratchet told him honestly. "It's a striking likeness, and I'll treasure it forever," He explained.

Dylan felt a bit nervous, but nodded his head. Surprised to find that First Aid had joined in, pulling his arms around his brother and foster nephew. "You fragging kidding me!? We got Picasso in your house over here! First thing tomorrow I'm finding a place to put this up," First Aid encouraged when they'd let go. "Kid, you've got insane levels of talent."

Dylan grinned widely, blushing a little bit at the outburst. He hadn't expected such a reaction to his gifts, but he was still very thankful for them. Ratchet however, crossed over to grab his last gift, carefully setting it into Dylan's hands. "Don't forget the last one," Ratchet told him. "This one's really important, so I wanted to save it for last."

Dylan looked at Ratchet, but carefully began to rip open the wrapping paper. Something important for him? What more could the medic have possibly given him that he hadn't already? Inside, however, he was greatly surprised at what he saw, though the grin on his face spoke volumes. It was a sketchbook, but it wasn't just any sketchbook, Ratchet had had it made special for him it appeared. It was bound in leather and had a metal Autobot shield on the cover, along with the words "DYLAN" embroidered on the front.

Inside, a small inscription read: "To the future artist. May you continue to make art that makes your old man proud. - Ratchet"

Dylan looked at Ratchet, and stepped forward, hesitating, but hugging him after a long moment. A fact which seemed to relax Ratchet, who now knew he had made the right choice. "Thanks old man," Dylan teased. "This is the most beautiful sketch book I think I've ever seen."

"Well, shucks," Ratchet rubbed the back of his head. "It's just a sketch book. I just wanted something really meaningful to give you. That isn't video games, or movies."

First Aid grinned from audio receptor to audio receptor as he watched the two. Though he couldn't push away the terminology that Dylan had used. As they broke off, he looked at Dylan with a look in his optics. "Did you really just call Ratchet your "old man"?" He asked. "Hey bro, I think he finally called you his dad."

Dylan felt his face go red, as he looked away. Sure, it had been written in the engraving, but still. Saying it had felt right, or at least more right than referring to his biological father as such. Dylan stared at Ratchet, his old man, the thought actually gave him some hope that things were progressing the way that, though he'd never admit it, he wanted them to. "Not there quite yet," Dylan told him. "Maybe someday though."

Ratchet gave him a small pat on the back, making it clear that he was just fine with waiting. But still, the three of them were becoming a family in all senses of the word. "Merry Christmas you guys," Dylan replied. "And thanks, y'know. For doing all of this, you really didn't have to."

"No, but we wanted to," Ratchet replied honestly. "Merry Christmas though, youngling."

"Yeah, merry Christmas!" First Aid chimed in. "Hey, now that we're done opening gifts. What do you say we head over to Ironhide's house? Even though his party's not until tonight, I bet he'd like to get together early like last year," He added. "I'll comm him."

Ratchet was about to answer, but First Aid was already off to comm him in the other room. Not that Ratchet minded much, he was always willing to spend holidays like this with his closest friend. "Well then, if that's the case. Let me see if I can get that scrambled eggs thing down this time," He explained. "Make you an actually nice Christmas breakfast?"

"Sounds good." Dylan replied.

Ratchet noticed that Dylan was carrying the sketchbook as he followed, and smiled. This would definitely be a Christmas to remember.

...

At the party, Dylan was surprised to find himself having a better time than he expected. For the first time, he found that he wasn't as nervous around people as he thought he would be. Rather, he was welcomed back into the foray with open arms yet again, and was soon chatting away with Shawn, Scarlet, and their parents. Maybe it was the effect that Christmas had on him, but either way, it was again, a noticeable change and one the Autobots were absolutely welcoming.

The "party" was really a sight to see for all who didn't know what the Auotbots were like behind closed doors. Ratchet, Bulkhead, and Ironhide exchanged their gifts with each other, While Scarlet played the piano (which Dylan learned she'd been playing since she was young), singing Christmas Carols that though the Autobots didn't join in with, a few other human friends in attendance did, as their Autobot friends seemed to watch on in amusement.

Dylan himself mostly indulged in the candy (namely candy canes), listened to the singing, and stuck around his two friends. Though eventually, he did regroup with Ratchet, who put him on his shoulder, as they watched the scene. "You know, this reminds me of the parties my d... Gene used to throw," Dylan told him. "They'd have ham, sing carol's, everyone in our town practically used to come."

Ratchet had a feeling that Dylan had never been invited to such parties. But he didn't bring it up, rather, it was Dylan who spoke up again, and confirmed it. "I always wondered what they were like," Dylan explained. "And this... This is really fun," He leaned into Ratchet again. "Thanks for making my first Christmas memorable, Ratch."

Ratchet looked at Dylan, surely he didn't need to thank him. But none-the-less it was nice to hear that his efforts had, undoubtedly succeeded. "You're welcome, I rather enjoyed making it happen, actually," He replied finally with a nod. "And now hopefully after our first crazy run-through. Next years will be smoother." He added.

Dylan thought about remarking that they didn't even know if he'd be with Ratchet then. But for the first time, Dylan honestly felt like he didn't want to think that way. For the first time, he wanted to look forward to what the next year would bring, Christmas and otherwise. "Yeah, I bet next Christmas will be even better," He explained. "Maybe by then..."

Dylan stopped himself, no that was too much of wishful thinking. Ratchet was already doing so much for him, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to be adopted yet. So no, he had to push that out of his thoughts for now, to think of more realistic goals. Or for now, just enjoy the Christmas that they were having. "What was that?" Ratchet asked, curious as to the unfinished question.

"Nothing," Dylan replied. "Merry Christmas, Ratchet."

"Merry Christmas, Dylan."

Inside, however, Ratchet knew it wasn't nothing. But that was a subject for another time.

...

A/N: I know I said I'd do this around Xmas but the chapter idea was just there and came out of me. So oh well, a little early into December but no biggie.


	17. Opening Up

A/N: Thanks to my awesome beta, **T** **FPKOFANGIRL** , for her awesome work on this chapter!

Alright, so this is the chapter we've all been dreading. So prepare yourself mentally, the whole story comes in here, and you should mentally prepare yourself. This **will** detail Dylan's abuse more than before, you have been warned.

...

 **CHAPTER 17**  
 **Opening Up**

"I'm ready to talk."

Ratchet almost dropped the data pad he was holding when Dylan came to him one night a month later. It was sudden, unexpected, and caught him off-guard. He took a long look at the boy, his optics staring long and hard at his foster son as he seated himself on a chair. "Ready... To talk?" Ratchet questioned, taking a deep breath. "Dylan, you don't have to..."

Dylan held up a hand, and shook his head in a way that mirrored his guardian before seating himself down as well. They sat there for a long moment, and clenched his teeth. "The longer I'm here. The more I realize this is going to be a long placement if nothing else. It's already been five months. One of the longest amounts of time that I've been in a home," Dylan replied. "I questioned if I should talk about it... After you lifted my shirt. But you... You've earned some of my trust," He explained. "You deserve to know what you're dealing with. But I'm telling you, and only you. I don't even want a word said to First Aid."

Ratchet knew this day would come, normally it came for most younglings. When they felt enough trust to share their experience with, someone they knew they could come to. Someone they knew would keep their secret, and help them recover in ways that they couldn't before. "Alright then, if you're sure," Ratchet replied, his voice tight. "You should share this with your therapist first, thou-."

"I don't trust him like I trust you," Dylan replied. "He hasn't earned it, you have. Please Ratchet, I've... I've been quiet too long and I need this off my chest."

Ratchet paused a moment, and then mentally prepared himself for what he was about to hear. Though he knew that no one could prepare themselves totally to hear about it, he still nodded. Sitting there silent as he waited for Dylan to speak up, the boy gripped the side of his chair, already, the medic saw tears forcing their way out. "I already told you about the attic. But what I didn't tell you is I didn't see the outside of that place until I was three," He began. "That was where I lived. I didn't know at the time but we were out in the middle of nowhere. My dad inherited the place, I think. His parents were rich, so on top of being chief of police, he was loaded," He explained. "He said it was my fault it happened... Since my mom died giving birth to me... I killed her he said. And I needed to take her place, and fulfill his needs."

Ratchet paused a long moment. "And no one knew he was treating his son that way?" Ratchet asked as calmly as he could, his spark tightening. "No one who could speak up, say something?"

Dylan tried to control himself as he trembled, shaking his head. He tried to control himself, but at the same time, he knew that the mech wasn't going to judge. He had to trust Ratchet, he wanted to. "People knew, Ratchet. People used to come over and watch me... He used to... He used to let some of them," Dylan paused mid-sentence, unable to say it, Ratchet growled quietly, his father let other men do this to him? "The rest were too afraid of him to say anything. My dad was a powerful guy, he would pay them off, or threaten them until they shut up. It was only when he made the wrong person mad that he even got caught," He explained. "I couldn't do anything anyway. He used to shackle me up in the attic, it was always locked, and the windows were boarded up. Or he'd keep me in his room."

Ratchet looked at Dylan, and then asked Dylan the hard question. "Other men... Abused you?" Ratchet asked.

Dylan looked down, tears falling more freely now, he didn't know how to reply. "Only twice. They promised they would be quiet if they got some "action", he said I was making him proud. Even said he might start letting me out," He explained with a choked voice. "I didn't know any better, Ratchet. I was so small, I thought it was normal. I used to think the only time my dad would let me out of that place was to sleep in his bed was something normal for kids."

Ratchet contained his anger as best he could, knowing it was best to only reassure and comfort in a situation like this. Anger would only do harm, according to studies, and he knew he had to keep calm. Even if the thought of what happened with those men made it hard. His father had gotten away with this, but there was no way in pit they should. They could still take these men to court, get them arrested, make them pay for not only keeping quiet, but for using Dylan the way they had. "What were the other men's names?" Ratchet asked. "Primus Dylan, they shouldn't get away with that. Frankly none of the people who kept quiet should, but most of all they should be doing time!"

"Ratchet, I can't-."

"You can," Ratchet told him as he appeared behind him, putting his hands on Dylan's shoulders. "Those men can still be tried, Dylan. They could go to jail," He explained. "I won't force you to come forward, but at least think about it," He explained. "Think about the five years of hell they allowed you to be subjected to. And that they even contributed to," He then added. "Surely they deserve all that time they stole from you and more."

Dylan looked thoughtful, but clearly wasn't going to give an answer right away. He looked down, his eyes overwhelmed with tears. "You know they weren't even the worst. HE was. I wasn't just abused a little bit then left alone for a while. It was almost every day, Ratch," He stated quietly. "Every day, and I didn't have the guts to say anything in that court room. They let him off like it was one time. All because he had a "room" set up in the house that looked like it belonged to me. Just in case he was ever caught. They couldn't prove he kept me in the attic, and I was too scared to say anything... He used to beat me and threaten me if I even thought about it."

"You were five," Ratchet told him gently. "And terrified. No sparkling should have to go and be on the stand in a trial like that," He told him through the choked sobs that Dylan had begun to break out into. "It's okay, Dylan. You're safe now, I've said it before, I'll say it again. I'll do everything in my power to protect you."

"You can't promise me though," Dylan told him quietly. "You can't promise-."

"I do promise because I love you," Ratchet told him. "I'm even more sure I will now."

Dylan nodded, brushing the tears away from his eyes as he looked at Ratchet. The mech looked sad, and like he was fighting tears of his own. He wasn't wrong, given Ratchet felt horrible for the boy, after all he'd went through, he couldn't help but be disgusted. "You don't think I'm disgusting now?" Dylan asked. "Like I'm some sort of monster?"

"Never," Ratchet told him gently. "When I look at you. I see, more than ever. A child that needs to heal," He took the boy's hand quietly. "And now that you've finally spoken up, I believe the healing can finally begin."

Dylan chewed his lip, and nodded his head, standing up, and let Ratchet's holoform collect him in his arms. Arms that felt safe, warm, and reminded him that he would be okay. "Could they really go to jail too?" Dylan asked quietly. "Can we really still get them?"

"All I need is the names, and to make a call to Prowl," Ratchet replied. "You'll need to testify. But you can finally give yourself some peace of mind. And possibly save other children," Dylan buried his face into Ratchet's chest. "If you can find it within yourself to do it."

The boy stood there quietly, thinking over his options. Ratchet knew that Dylan had a big heart underneath the tough exterior he put up, but he also knew he was scared. He wouldn't blame him if he might be too scared to talk. But sure enough, he finally spoke up again. "Brian and Lucas," Dylan told him shakily. "I don't remember their last names. But they worked for my dad, they were cops."

Ratchet nodded, though it wasn't much to go by, he knew Prowl would be able to find them. Do a little digging into cops that used to work under Gene, and they'd surely be able to break it down. All they needed was to get in touch with the police department in Oregon. "Alright then, sit tight," Ratchet stated as he let go. "I have a call to make."

He'd see to it, with every fiber of his being, that these men paid for what they, and Dylan's father did.

...

The men were found, and they were called out to Oregon via-ground bridge within the next forty-eight hours. It was quick to get the men (who fought tooth and nail, and feigned innocence) arrested. And under the pressure of it all, they did crack, though, to Ratchet's disappointment, they never paid Dylan's father (Dylan confirmed this) so they couldn't get his father on prostitution charges. But frankly, it was all worth it to see the look of relief in Dylan's eyes. The look that said that for the first time, the boy felt like he was at peace.

What surprised Dylan most was that the fact that any cop that had been on the force for his case came to Dylan. They all treated him gently, and shaked his hand, commending him for his bravery. In fact, when one of the men being arrested screamed how long he'd been on the force, one, who had kids and was doubly angry as a result, nearly throttled him and said "You should have never been ON it.". Ratchet smiled, seeing that the police force did take this seriously, and knowing Dylan's case was one of a kind.

When they returned home, Dylan's anxiety seemed to leave him a little. Given he now knew that everyone that had ever done horrible things to him was now going to pay. Even though Gene was getting out in a month, he could rest assured that hopefully, Ratchet would do everything he could to keep him safe. About three hours after returning home however, Ratchet called Dylan into the den where he was waiting to have an important talk with him. One that would be life-altering for both him and the boy in ways they could only imagine.

Not wanting to beat around the bush, Ratchet got straight to the point. "Dylan, what do you think of being adopted?"

There was a stark silence that followed the rather innocent question. Dylan looked at him for a long moment, his voice catching in his throat. "Wha-a-a-a?" He asked. "What did you just say? I think I'm losing my mind," He added. "Can you repeat that?"

Ratchet made a few steps forward, crouched low, and looked Dylan right in the eyes. There was a deep, soft nature to his optics at the moment. One that on one hand made Dylan uncomfortable, and on the other confused him. "The question I've presented you with," Ratchet began calmly. "Was what you think about being adopted?"

Dylan felt like the whole world around him had stopped. Was Ratchet actually serious? They'd known each other five months, and while he enjoyed his company and liked him... Was he really offering this? He'd be lying if he said that he hadn't thought of the idea of course. Especially given how close they'd been growing more and more lately, but this... He felt his knees grow weak as he looked up at him.

No one had ever asked to adopt him to his face.

"After all of this? Ratchet, you know about me more than anyone else now," Dylan replied, shaking his head. "You don't want me or my baggage. No matter what you've got going through that processor of yours," He tapped the side of his head, looking away. "Don't waste your time on me."

Ratchet stopped him with a hand before Dylan could walk away. The mech looked at Dylan for a moment, and carefully turned him around. "Alright, I will take an actual reason of your own for saying no. But you do not decide what I want," Ratchet explained. "Because I've spent the last two nights since you told me the full story losing recharge, going over it all in my head," He explained bluntly. "Dylan, I wouldn't be talking about this if I didn't want you."

"You want me? Me and all my pain... All my baggage?" Dylan asked. "Foster care was perfect for us. You needed someone to keep you company. I needed someone to open up to," He explained. "We helped each other, but if you adopt me it'll ruin everything. You'd be in it forever and no one wants someone who's broken, disgusting, and traumatized forever," He explained.

Ratchet paused a moment, was this really what Dylan thought about it? Dylan knew it wasn't totally how he felt, he sometimes found himself wishing that Ratchet would adopt him. But he also thought, any time he really thought about it, exactly what he said. Everyone else had left him, so what would possibly make Ratchet any different? What would stop him from ultimately changing his mind even if his heart was in the right place?

"Do you really think so little of yourself?" Ratchet asked quietly. "Dylan, what happened wasn't your fault. Your father was the disgusting, vile one. You're nothing of the sort," He explained, trying to keep him calm. "After all I heard, I know you deserve a family. One that will love you, care for you, look after you," He added. "I consulted First Aid, and even Primus himself on the subject. And I know that, whether you believe it or not. You belong with me, you always have. And I also know that I want you as my son more than anything I've wanted in some time."

That, as much as he found it hard to believe, brought tears to his eyes. Ratchet had given it that much thought? It wasn't just a spur of the moment thing? It wasn't pity? He turned to look at his guardian, trying to find the hint of a lie, but unable to see anything. "You mean it?" Dylan said, trying not to choke out his words. "Ratchet, you don't have to do this. I'm okay with being my own-."

"Dylan, I love you, and I do," Ratchet affirmed. "I wanted a family, and sure once upon a time... I thought of a sparkmate, and a sparkling of my own. But then the thought of adoption at my older age," He paused a moment. "And you... Came into my life. I know it wasn't the best way to meet. Slag, I thought you were just a load of trouble the first week in my program really..."

"I kinda was before I moved in."

"The point is," Ratchet continued, heaving in a breath. "The more time we spend together. The more I come to see that you were put in my path for a reason. You never belonged with that piece of scrap. You belonged here, safe, and sound," He explained. "You're MY sparkling, paper or not. But I really, truly want to make it official Dylan. To keep that man away from you and give you the family you deserve."

A family? A real family... The thought made Dylan's tears worsen, his body trembling as quiet cries escaped, and erupted into sobs. Ratchet was confused for a minute, until it became increasingly clear that Dylan's cries were of joy, especially as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of the mech. "You mean it, don't you?" Dylan asked him hoarsely. "You'd really adopt me? You'd really make me your son?"

He felt Ratchet put a hand around him, nodding his head slowly. "I wouldn't just do it. I WANT to," Ratchet told him calmly. "I want to be your father, and I want you to be my son. I mean frag, how could I not want a gifted, kind individual like you?" He asked, gently moving Dylan's head up with a finger. "I know I made my mistakes along the way, Dylan. And I can't promise I'll be perfect. But I can promise I'll love, protect, and guide you as best I can."

Dylan chewed his lip. "What about...?"

"Gene?" Ratchet asked, Dylan nodded his head slowly. "If he ever came for you, I'd let him have it. The best part about this adoption would be once it's done. He can NEVER get you back. No court in the world would disrupt an adoption for someone like him," The boy shook, leaning into Ratchet's chestplate. "I promise, Dylan, I mean every word."

After a long moment, Dylan looked back up at Ratchet. His eyes warming a bit, and finally he nodded, relaxing, but continuing to cry. "Alright..." Dylan whispered. "Alright, if you really want me. Then you have me," He replied. "I can't lie and say I didn't want it. Because I do," He admitted. "I just... I can't believe you did too."

Ratchet gently stroked his back slowly, shaking his head. "I don't know how I wouldn't want you," he told him with a small smile. "I will be honored to sign on the dotted line, and call you mine," He told him with every ounce of honesty in the world. "I'm glad you said yes, son..."

For the first time, Dylan couldn't hide the wide smile that came over his face, no matter how hard he tried.

...

"Wooooohooo! I'm gonna be an uncle officially then?" First Aid stated as they sat down at dinner the next day. "Dylan Chet, or something?" Dylan shrugged, not totally sure, but Ratchet was fairly certain that would be the case. "It has a really nice ring to it."

Dylan felt his cheeks flush red at the thought of becoming anything but Dylan Logan. Yet he knew he had to get used to it, this was happening, and it both excited and scared him. "Well, I guess I'm just... Tired of moving around and not having a family," Dylan told him. "And Ratchet's the first person to ever ask me if they could adopt me."

Ratchet still couldn't believe that, honestly. Dylan was such a good kid, but then again, he supposed he'd never gotten close to anyone either. But it was okay, because frankly, he didn't know what his life would have been like if he never found Dylan. The boy had opened his eyes to many things, and helped him learn more patience in his life, and for that he was very thankful.

He carefully rested his hand against his son's back, and looked at him. "Well Primus knows it was a bigger decision for you," He pointed out. "I already knew that I wanted you in my family. But I was not going to force it on you," He explained. "You have the right to choose the life you want to live."

Dylan looked at Ratchet, a small smile tugging at his lips. It felt good to hear someone say that, honestly. The idea that someone thought of him as worth listening to. The thought that that person, given time, would become his father. "I guess that you're okay with having me in your family," Dylan brought up, looking at First Aid. "Even though you now know that I'm an abomination?"

First Aid stared at him for a long moment, stunned by the comment. But Ratchet wasn't so much, he knew that thought would always be there. That worry that he would never be just what his new family had desired out of someone. "You're not an abomination," First Aid told him bluntly, not even beating around the bush. "If you were, Ratchet wouldn't have gone near you. So, trust me when I say I care about you."

Dylan smiled up at him, crossing his arms and leaning back. For once he didn't care if the entirety of the restaurant saw his wide smile. He supposed maybe it was true, and he finally had found that thing that a family was supposed to be. Or maybe it was only another false hope... But at least for now he could sit there, and believe for the moment that this was his family. Especially as Ratchet had already sent out the adoption request paperwork that would be needed if they were going to get the process started.

And until then, it could be months, or a few years before it happened. Especially if Gene had anything to say about it, and came after them. But he also remembered what Ratchet had said, that he would not let the man come for him at all. He knew that Ratchet had more of a reason to fight for him than ever, and that, on its own, was comforting. "I just hope you guys aren't expecting "dad" or "Uncle First Aid" yet. I'm not sure I'm ready to make that jump," He admitted. "I still need time to absorb the fact you're even adopting me," He looked at Ratchet as he looked at him.

Ratchet of course knew that chances were, the way things were going, it wouldn't be long. But at the same time, he still wanted to make sure that Dylan did so on his own time. Though he very much looked forward to the day he would hear the word "dad" slip through Dylan's lips. "Everything takes time," Ratchet told him honestly. "When the time is right for you, I'll be ready," He told him honestly. "So, what are you thinking of having? The whole menu's open tonight since we're celebrating."

Dylan looked surprised, usually they budgeted their meals out. So the thought of being able to choose whatever he wanted did get him giddy as he looked it over. He licked his lips slightly. "I hear this thing called prime rib is good," Dylan brought up. "Maybe I'll try that."

Ratchet simply hummed, only partially listening as Dylan continued to comment on it. Now that things were more out in the open between the two of them, and Dylan was on the road to adoption he felt a warmth in his spark. That family he had been thinking about for some time now was coming together, and he could feel it. So long as no one in Gene's corner interfered, Dylan would be his in no time.

And, especially now that he knew the full extent of what happened in that house? Primus knew even more than he once had that if and when that man came back, he would fight him with everything he had.

...

A/N: Ugh, such a hard chapter to write, but I'm glad to have finally gotten through it! Hope that talk went the way you guys were hoping. :)


	18. New Feelings

PERSON-WHO-READS: Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it so much! That's an interesting thought you have actually, you'll probably get your wish. But not in the way you'd think. I'll just say keep a look out on my profile for something on the horizon.

And thank you, I hope you and yours did as well!

A/N: Thanks to my good friend, **NIGHTHAWK211** , for the suggestion of where to take this chapter because I was stuck for a bit. But man, I had a hoot writing it!

Thanks to my second beta, **SIDEKICKS-ANONYMOUS** , for working on this chapter! You rock!

...

 **CHAPTER 18  
New Feelings**

"So, first home inspection went off without a hitch."

Ratchet said this rather happily as he turned to walk towards Dylan a month after they'd made their decision. They had needed another one in preparation for Ratchet to adopt him, and like he'd said, it hadn't gone badly. Ratchet had to hold back his temper a few times, mostly when the man accompanying Reese that day had suggested he'd do anything to hurt Dylan. The teen knew it was mostly because he was still moving past how horrific his abuse by his biological father had been, but it still had worried him.

"Yeah, I guess," Dylan replied, taking a deep breath. "But did you have to give the other one that crap? You gotta remember that they're the ones writing the home inspection too." He swallowed. "One thing they find wrong and this whole thing could blow up in our faces."

Ratchet frowned. Of course Dylan was still worried about that. He supposed the boy would worry something would go wrong until the papers were officially signed. And honestly, he couldn't blame him either. They'd already established that other adoption attempts had fallen through.

"Nothing is going to go wrong, Dylan. And you're not going to be leaving, if that's what you're worried about," He explained. "I'd fight tooth and nail before I'd let them take you away from me."

Dylan nodded his head, pushing the bangs of his hair away from his face. He wasn't going to stop worrying, Ratchet was right there. Especially not now that he knew that his biological father had been released from jail. That meant that somewhere out there, Eugene Logan could very much be looking for him. But until he had reason to feel otherwise, he would hold onto the hope that Ratchet's adoption of him would go through. "I just hope you're right," Dylan kicked his foot up slightly. "I don't think I can take any more disappointment honestly."

Ratchet vented, knowing that was true. "I'll keep my temper down," He grunted, begrudgingly, but none-the-less he didn't want Dylan to worry this much. "Anything that'll make you feel more confident about this." He added. "So, is Ironhide still coming by to pick you up? I know you said that he was taking you and Scarlet out somewhere today."

Dylan smiled. He had nearly forgotten, but he was actually looking forward to getting out for a bit. Sure, he and Ironhide weren't as close as he and Ratchet were yet, but he still was growing to like the mech. He'd been reaching out more in the last month since Ratchet had asked him to be the godfather in the event of him or First Aid not being able to take care of him. So Ironhide had done what he could to make a connection with his godson, and it was working, regardless of the fact that Dylan still had feelings for Scarlet.

"Yeah, he's going to take us to see a movie I think," Dylan replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "You should come with us," Dylan brought up, as Ratchet stared at him in surprise.

"I mean... Not if you don't want to. That is," He paused a moment. "I don't know, it's just, it might be cool to do something with the four of us. Seeing as Ironhide's your best friend and all."

Ratchet had to take a moment to absorb the fact that Dylan was asking him to come along. The boy never invited him out when he went on his own. But he supposed that now that things were growing between them, and the situation was looking permanent, maybe Dylan had decided it was safe to go out and do things with him regularly. And while Ratchet did have some work to do from home, a few hours to see a movie with his son and best friend wouldn't do anything.

Yet Dylan stood there looking nervous, as if dreading the "no." Which is why it came as a surprise when Ratchet nodded. "Of course I'll come along," he spoke up. "I'd love to come and get out for a while. I mean, if you're not ashamed to be seen out with your old mech."

"I uh, I've never had a dad who wanted to do anything with me but..." Dylan paused a moment, and then smiled. "You really are coming? Wow, that's great! I'll uh... I'll go get my jacket," He commented, starting off towards his room before looking at Ratchet. "You're sure you want to come? You don't have to if you have work."

Ratchet tilted his head. "I'm fine with coming, I just am surprised you want me to," He lifted an optic ridge a Dylan rubbed the back of his head, looking at his feet. "And by the look on your face, I don't think you're telling me something. Mind telling me why you want me there?"

Dylan looked up at Ratchet with a sigh, putting his hands in his pockets. He knew he couldn't hide it from Ratchet, especially if he wanted him there for confidence. "Okay, so the truth is... it's a date," Dylan explained. "And I know this sounds silly... But I'm so nervous. So I thought, maybe if my guardian was there... Maybe I wouldn't be so... Scared? Nervous? I don't know... My stomach is just in knots."

Ratchet's look of uncertainty suddenly turned into a smile, and then a chuckle. This was too cute, even for him—the fact that Dylan was scared like that to go on his first date... To think a kid actually wanted his father there!

"Stop! It's not that funny, Ratchet," Dylan said as he blushed. "Come on, please."

"Oh youngling, I just find it funny," Ratchet replied. "Most would find it mortifying to have their father in the theater for their first date."

"Ironhide only agreed to it if he was there," Dylan groaned. "So what difference does it make?"

Ratchet shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. The boy certainly was a hoot at times, but all the same, he nodded. "Go get your jacket on, then. Ironhide and your date should be here any time," Dylan looked like he was ready to crawl into a hole and die. "What? I'm just having some fun with you, son. Of course I'll come."

"I'm just scared because I... Well," Dylan paused a minute. "I've never kissed a girl... " He paused a moment. "And I'm worried she'll think I'm weird anyway. What if I do something I shouldn't? What if she changes her mind and thinks I'm weird the whole time?"

Ratchet first of all, hoped to Primus there wouldn't be kissing yet. But he understood Dylan's fear. Any act of affection, holding hands, kissing, anything like that, well, had probably been forced on him. Most girls liked those things but he was terrified of doing the wrong thing. "Dylan, you of all people would never do something she was uncomfortable with," Ratchet explained. "And as for the other way around... If you get uncomfortable, I'll be in the audience. We'll go home."

"She'd never talk to me again," Dylan replied. "Neither would Ironhide."

"They'd both understand, Dylan. Both of them know what you've gone through," Ratchet explained, to which Dylan nodded a little, understanding. "You're going to be okay though, I know it. Just go get your jacket."

"You promise if I get scared... If I change my mind..." Dylan breathed. "You'll take me home?"

"Of course."

Dylan nodded his head slowly, starting towards his room. Ratchet sighed, hoping that wouldn't be the case. Dylan was making a huge first step in moving forward from his past. He wanted Dylan to know it was okay to do things like that, so long as nothing went too far, and it wasn't an adult taking advantage of you. He hoped Scarlet would be able to show him that, too.

...

"Dylan was pretty scared to go on this date."

Ironhide shifted in his seat as Ratchet looked at him. They were in the Cybertronian section of the audience—this theater was one their real forms fit in, rather than others where they had to use their holoforms. "I can see why. If his hand goes anywhere near my daughter's aft, then godson or not, I will make a scene." Ratchet snorted slightly. "Though I doubt he will. He of all kids knows better."

Ratchet shook his head a little, looking at his friend. "I don't think he'll even hold her hand yet," He explained. "He's still learning that displays of affection aren't always a bad thing. He's too used to it being used to hurt him," He shook his head. "That's why I'm here... He's worried that he may get cold feet, and need to leave."

Ironhide gave a soft look in his optics at that. No doubt that hit him right in the spark, whether it was his daughter on the date or not. They looked over to see that Dylan was sitting near the back with Scarlet, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. "Why did he ask then?" He questioned. "If he wasn't ready, it wasn't like she was going to stop liking him. She talked about him all the time."

"I think he wants to try," Ratchet told him honestly. "He's trying to move forward, to have the life of a normal teenager," Ironhide nodded his head a bit. "Give him time, I don't think he'll back out," He then added with a snort. "It's funny, imagine if this does go somewhere. It'll be quite interesting."

"Our Godchildren possibly becoming our children-in-law?" Ironhide took a deep breath, as if he wasn't sure. "Let's just get past the first date. It really should be interesting though," He explained, turning his head back to the screen, narrowing his optics. "What is the point of this movie again?"

"I don't know. Blue got him into Star Wars." Ratchet explained. "They're really stretching things with a seventh trilogy, though."

Meanwhile, Dylan's confidence continued to fade. They'd been watching the movie for a good thirty minutes now, and it was great. He looked over at Scarlet every so often, but she didn't seem to be forcing anything on him. He knew she was waiting for him to make the first move, but he was too scared. He looked away from her as she looked at him, her eyes twinkling.

"Dylan, you can hold my hand, you know." Scarlet told him gently. "It's okay, I don't bite."

Dylan's finger twitched slightly as Scarlet held her hand out on the arm rest. He didn't know whether he could take it or not. Was he ready for that? Was he ready to try and take the hand of someone that wasn't trying to take advantage of him? "I'm scared," Dylan murmured. "I know I said I wanted this, and I do. I really like you, Scar. I'm just not... It's just…" He paused.

"Dylan," Scarlet looked him in the eyes. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're worried about. If I was, do you think for a second I'd be here? Let alone with my father?" Dylan blushed a little. It was a good point after all. "It's okay to hold my hand... We can take the other things slower. But I've seen you stare at it for the last ten minutes," She paused. "You can do this."

Dylan looked at her now, his eyes lowering to the hand. Slowly, he reached forward and rested the hand over hers. Let his fingers interlock with them, and let her do the same. And unlike when his father had held his hand in this manner, it felt right, it felt good. He felt himself relax, knowing he was not going to hurt her, or her, him. "Thank you," Dylan murmured.

"Boys and girls hold hands on dates, Dylan."

"No, I mean... Thanks for understanding... And helping," Dylan whispered. "I just... This feels good, I'm glad you encouraged me," He smiled slightly. "I can't promise the rest will be quick."

"I'd rather take it a little slow anyway," Scarlet replied. "No labels, just... Dating?"

Dylan nodded, he liked the sound of that. Slow and steady. He wanted to be her boyfriend, eventually, he thought. But for the moment, this was new to him. He had to take it easy and let things work themselves out as best he could. "Yeah, dating would be good," Dylan commented as he was surprised to see her head on his shoulder. "I still don't see why you like me, though. Most people would hate to go out with me."

"Why would I hate it?" Scarlet replied. "I care about you. You're sweet, funny, and cool."

"You're buttering me up."

"I think your dad would agree," Scarlet told him.

Dylan peered over to where Ratchet and Ironhide were sitting. Though Ironhide wasn't paying attention to them, the medic was. He gave a small thumbs up, clearly having seen the hand-holding. He took a deep breath, and laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess he probably does," He explained. "He was teasing me earlier too," He paused a minute. "I'm almost ready to call him my dad with the way he acted. He sure acts like one most of the time."

Scarlet smiled a bit, looking up at him. "Are you the same kid that couldn't stand Ratchet a few months ago?" She asked teasingly.

Dylan thought about it. He almost wanted to say yes, but at the same time, that wasn't the truth. He wasn't that same boy; that boy was changing and growing up into something new. He was happy, he realized, he was really, truly happy. "No, Scar, I don't think I am," Dylan told her honestly. "And I think that's a good thing."

He really did.

...

When they exited the movie a few hours later, they were laughing. Ratchet and Ironhide had stayed off a bit to allow them to enjoy what was left of their date, so they stood outside, smiling. Dylan leaned against the wall, his eyes looking over at Scarlet. They'd been laughing and talking for about a half an hour when Ratchet and Ironhide finally stepped out. "Alright, Scar," Ironhide spoke up. "You have plenty of time to hang out at school. But it's getting around dinner time, I think we all need to go home."

Ratchet nodded his head in agreement. "I think he may even trust you two to go without him next time," He joked, though Ironhide gave a look that said no way. "Or not. Come on, Dylan. We need to get back home too. We can stop at your favorite place, that Cane's on the way back."

"Call me later?" Scarlet asked with a smile.

"Definitely," Dylan nodded his head. "Night, Scar; night, 'Hide."

As the two groups split up, Dylan tried to hide the wide smile from Ratchet's view. He was a little afraid that the fact he was actually smiling so wide could concern the medic. After all, he rarely had this big a smile on his face, if ever.

"Well, I think that went well," Ratchet hummed. Dylan only nodded slowly. "See? I told you that it would go alright."

Dylan smiled, his eyes looking up at Ratchet quietly. "Thanks Ratch," He paused. "I love you, thanks for coming."

Ratchet stopped in his tracks, did his audio receptors malfunction? Or did Dylan just... He turned around, to see that the boy was, again, giving him one of those looks. The looks that he only gave when he was scared of what was coming next. "You... You do?" Ratchet asked, his voice tight.

Dylan rubbed his arm, uncertainty in his eyes. "I... At least I think so. Every time I'm around you anymore. I feel warm, I feel... I feel…" Dylan paused a minute. "You make me happy. And you make me feel safe. Safe isn't something I've ever really felt before," He said. "Is that love, Ratchet? Is that what real love is supposed to feel like?"

Ratchet almost felt coolant in his optics at that. That Dylan even had to ask him what love was supposed to feel like…Every child should know what love felt like by the time they were fourteen. But here, Dylan was just discovering it for the first time. "Yes, Dylan, that's exactly what love feels like, especially feeling loved," Ratchet told him gently. "That's how you're supposed to feel around your parent."

Dylan could see that Ratchet was leaking coolant, knowing full well he was a little emotional. Dylan had to admit, he was feeling a bit of it too. Knowing now what love felt like, and that Ratchet really did feel that way about him, it made his heart beat a little faster than normal. "Then yeah," Dylan nodded. "I love you, Ratchet."

Ratchet smiled again, and this time pushed the coolant from his optics. "I love you too, son," He told him without a single hint of hesitation. "More than you will ever know."

The entire drive home, Dylan felt even more warmth inside him. He finally had someone who loved him, really, truly, loved him. He never had believed he'd find that, but sure enough, he had. He could chalk this up to one of the many things he had learned since he'd come to live with Ratchet, two of which came that day. He thought about it as they drove through Cane's, and as they ate when they got home.

It was a new term for him to get used to, but one he was happy to know: "I love you".

He knew that it would still feel foreign to his tongue for a while, but it was a good foreign. He sighed quietly, and watched as the mech sipped his energon and now read over some news on the data pad. He was quiet about it, but he hoped beyond hope that this adoption went through. He didn't know if he could take having this feeling and then having someone yank it out from under him.

And for that matter, he had more to stay there for now, too. Scarlet, the two of them were getting closer than he'd ever expected. In time, he thought, she might be his girlfriend. Another thing he never thought he'd have in his life. He leaned back, and let his thoughts turn away from the very thing he was terrified of: Eugene Logan. He knew this was the month he was supposed to be out. And he knew, somewhere in Oregon, he was free...

But he'd try not to be scared for the moment. With any luck, there wouldn't be a problem. With any luck, in a few months, he'd never see Eugene again. Because he was going to be adopted, he told himself. He was going to never be able to be touched by the man again.

But a part of him, no matter how he tried, did worry.

...

The last thing Eugene Logan wanted to come out of prison to was this news. Not only was he shut out of Dylan's file forever, due to the arrest and suspected molestation case of two old colleagues—but now people were saying that Dylan would soon be adopted and that he would never see him again after that? He never would even have a prayer, Gene figured. After all of this, he'd NEVER have his revenge.

Now here he was, in a dead-end apartment in the worst part of town. Stripped of his badge, his ranking, and most of all, all the money he'd ever accumulated. He saw the glares that most people shot him on the street now, most insisting that he was a bad guy, a monster. But as he sat there waiting for that call from Donnie that he had been waiting for for the last several hours, he thought, and knew.

If they wanted a monster, he'd show them a monster.

The sound of the phone ringing grabbed his attention. Gene stood to his feet and crossed the distance in the living room to the landline, ripping it up and answering. "Alright, Donnie, this had better be good," Gene commented. "I'm really getting tired of waiting. And what's more, I'm tired of hearing this crap that I can't come near him," He explained.

"That's hard, Gene," Donnie replied. "I don't think I can get involved anymore. They took the other two down, now. I didn't touch the kid, but if they find out I'm helping you," He paused a moment. "Look, I have my own kid to think about. And I don't want her growing up without a father."

"You had better be kidding," Gene snarled through gritted teeth. "I didn't pay you to wuss out on me!"

Donnie's voice got caught in his throat. "To be frank, Gene, You're in deep shit, and I'm not letting you drag me down with you." He was very blunt about it. "I don't work with pedophiles, Gene. And considering you gave him to two guys who admitted to it, I'm not buying your 'wrongly accused' story," He then added. "And I dare you to try anything for the money. I got a double-barreled shotgun with your name on it if I see you anywhere near my home or my daughter."

And then there was a dial tone. That was that. The kid had even ruined a good chance of him finding where he lived. He growled slowly and looked out the window, out onto the city. If someone like Donnie wouldn't do it, he knew he had other people that would. People in the underground, the darker parts of the world that owed him favors and would go the lengths he wouldn't.

He thought for a moment of who to call before picking up the phone. With a few dials, he got the person he was looking for. He licked his lips. Dylan wouldn't elude him much longer, he knew. He'd find him soon and then the boy would wish he'd never been born.


	19. Sadness

GUEST: Thank you! I hope you enjoy the rest of it!

A/N: Thanks to my beta, **SIDEKICKS-ANONYMOUS** , for working on this chapter! :D

...

 **CHAPTER 19  
Sadness**

Dylan had never expected everyone to approve of him. But still, he'd had hope. Yet that morning, he really didn't go out looking for trouble. In fact, he and Ratchet had gone out in hopes of enjoying a long respite, and much-needed day off for the latter. Ratchet had been swamped with work lately, which meant that they didn't get days like this as much. But that was okay, because he made up for it by taking Dylan to the mall again.

This time, Ratchet made it clear that Dylan had a spending limit. But he was okay with that, he didn't expect Ratchet to constantly take him on spending sprees like he had the first time. Yet the budget left him enough money to grab a few DVDs he wanted, and a new t-shirt, so he really couldn't complain either way. When they'd finally been done shopping, that was when the moment he truly hated happened.

It had started out as a quiet trip to the food court for food. They were enjoying lunch when the mech approached, and almost immediately interrupted their talk.

"Heyyyy Ratchet!" Came the mech's friendly voice as he walked up to their table. "How's it going? Been a while!"

Dylan took in the mech. He was a slender and dark-colored with gold optics. Dylan hadn't met him before, but at the time, he'd seemed friendly enough. Ratchet, however, already didn't look too happy to see him.

"Hello, Gloom. To what do we owe the pleasure?" He grunted.

"What? Can't an old friend come and say hi? And hey, this must be the kid I've heard so much about!" Gloom commented, looking at Dylan with a friendly smile. "It's nice to finally get to put a face to the name 'Dylan.' You're the talk among the Autobots these days. Not many people get into Ratchet's spark like that!"

Dylan smiled, looking up at the mech. "Nice to meet you, too—Gloom? I don't think Ratchet's mentioned you much before... Did you guys used to work together?"

Ratchet almost facepalmed at the boy's bluntness. One of these days, he knew that the boy was going to get him into loads of trouble. "Of course I've told you about Gloom. You're just forgetting!" Ratchet told him in a tone that said "play along".

"It's okay. I'm sure the kid has been meeting a lot of your friends. I'd find it hard to keep track of them all too," The mech commented with a grin. "Yeah, we used to work together before the war. That was when I went neutral and this mech over here went Autobot. He had guts; personally, I thought it was a bad idea."

"It wasn't! Ratchet's a war hero and a big-name medic because of it."

Ratchet smirked as Dylan stood up for him. The boy sure had gusto, and he hadn't lied, either. But at the same time, the last thing he wanted to do was get in an argument.

"Heh, fair point kid." Gloom said. "I guess Ratchet did have a lot of good come out of it. Though a lot of bad came from that war, too."

Dylan nodded, then, after a moment, turned to Ratchet. "Hey Ratchet, can I grab an ice cream cone? I'm feeling something sweet."

Ratchet scanned around; he hated to let Dylan go without checking first. Any kind of shifty person could have been there for all they knew. He nodded his head, and helped Dylan down from the table to grab his dessert. Ratchet was just turning to speak to him when Gloom spoke up.

"Man, Ratchet, I gotta say. You have some real guts."

Ratchet already had a bad feeling about what Gloom meant. As he stared at his friend, he considered letting it go. Yet another side of him did wonder what he meant. "I'm not sure I follow."

Gloom snorted, taking a Cybertronian-sized seat from a nearby table. As he sat down, he flashed his denta in a grin. "You're kidding, right? Nah, probably too humble. The kid obviously. I mean his story's been all over the papers since they arrested those two guys." He explained. "How long of a rap sheet must that kid have? I mean, his dad got off so easy, and now he's gonna have to go to court-."

"Gloom, I'd chose my next words carefully." Ratchet told him darkly.

"What? The kid isn't here! I'm just saying; it really does take guts. I mean how much money have you put down on a psychiatrist already?" He asked; as unaware that Dylan had started to walk back as Ratchet was. "I mean, no offense. But if it was between a surrogate, or that kid, I'd take a surrogate any day. I mean, how can you even love a kid like that?"

Dylan stopped dead in his tracks behind Ratchet as he heard that, suddenly regretting realizing he was a few dollars short, and needed to ask Ratchet for more. Ratchet himself felt his body flaring. "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"

"Well come on, the kid's dad took his innocence. So did those two guys. He's never gonna be normal; neither is your life. Stop me if I'm lying," Gloom commented; causing even more of a pit to form in Dylan's stomach. "But I could definitely never love someone who was raped that young. Too many defects you'd have to deal with..."

That's when Ratchet threw the punch. He wasn't a violent mech, but he did it anyway. But that didn't surprise him; no, what surprised him is he didn't feel remorse. Rather, as Gloom hit the floor, he felt the overwhelming desire to beat him until energon stained the floor. "Get out of my sight. If I ever so much as see you near me again, there's more where that came from."

Ratchet barely had time to register the sound of someone running ahead of him. Ratchet saw Dylan, he saw the water that leaked out of his eyes. The tears. Primus, Dylan hadn't heard that, had he?

"That was so uncalled for, Ratchet!" Gloom protested. "I wasn't saying anything wrong. I was just—"

"He heard you!" Ratchet snapped. "He heard you and now he probably thinks I feel that way. Do you even KNOW how long I've been working to tell him he deserves to be loved? That he deserves to not have to deal with people like you? Primus, I have half a mind to throw you through a wall!"

Gloom's face fell, though more of fear than anything. The look doubled in intensity as Ratchet approached him with a scowl on his face. "Come on, Ratchet. I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything. I'm overloaded. I swear."

Ratchet didn't let him get up, overcharged or not. Rather the moment he stood enough, he'd thrown another punch. One hard enough to send one of Gloom's denta flying. "You know Gloom, I'd be more surprised that your creators loved YOU. I thought one needed a spark to function properly. It must have been a real struggle for them."

Ratchet ignored the looks others gave him. None of them could possibly understand how this felt. To have your own son hear that some people thought he could never be normal. All because of something completely out of his control, something that had been forced on him.

He had to find Dylan before he tried something drastic.

...

Dylan couldn't control the tears, no matter how hard he tried. What if that mech was right? What if he really couldn't be normal? Did Ratchet, despite his apparent "love" for him, believe that, too? He felt the urge to run away again. The urge to run away, and never be found. If he was such an abomination like people like Gloom thought, what would he have to lose anyway?

He thought about this as he sat down on the bench outside the mall. A few people had stopped to ask if he was okay, but he had ignored each one. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why couldn't they all just leave him ALONE? After about a half an hour, he finally heard Ratchet come down the steps. And felt as the holoform joined him. "Dylan," Ratchet commented softly. The boy looked up. "Dylan, it's alright."

"No it's not; just stop saying that!" Dylan snapped. "I just want to go home, okay? I'm embarrassed. People are staring... I just want to go home!"

That last bit was said in a tone that Ratchet had never heard out of Dylan before. Something that chilled him; the boy really had been hurt by those words. More than ever, given the sobs that were escaping Dylan's throat. Ratchet paused; then nodded. "Alright, alright, let's go home then."

Dylan wouldn't look at him as they left, or the entire ride home.

...

Dylan felt around in the dark for light. It was late, and the moment he found the switch, he could barely see given how bright his room became.

He wasn't sure when he'd realized it was a dream, but within moments, he had found himself thrown on the bed. He groaned, his body twisting and thrashing as the figure above him leaned in. It was Gene, who looked not a day older, even if Dylan was now fourteen.

He held him down, breath running down his neck as Dylan screamed. He tried to get away, tried to fight. Eventually, he succeeded, falling off the bed, but feeling as though he was falling down a deep, dark, never ending expanse of space. He landed in his bedroom, but it wasn't his bedroom. No, it was now a nursery, one with a crib big enough for a giant. A sparkling, he guessed.

He looked up at the sound of wailing. He stared as Ratchet entered, holding a giant robotic baby—a sparkling, maybe?—and flanked by a femme who he couldn't quite make out either. They snuggled up, and stared at the sparkling.

Dylan could feel strong arms wrap around him. Gene was holding him again, and a woman, a social worker was beside him, telling him it just didn't work out, and how they'd keep trying.

"RATCHET!" Dylan shouted, getting the medic's attention. "Ratchet! Don't let them take me! You said you loved me, you promised!"

Ratchet looked at him for a long moment, then down at the sparkling. He gave that look Dylan had come to know from many parents. He looked happy, like he had what he wanted now. "I'm sorry, Dylan. It's just that you're not what I wanted. They are... I hope you understand."

And then Dylan screamed, screamed for Ratchet to help him, to save him. But the mech wasn't listening anymore; he had turned away, and paid no attention. After a moment however, as he was dragged away, he heard him change, he heard the shouting of his name as Ratchet rushed forward. "Dylan! Dylan! Wake up! Wake up, son!"

Dylan woke with a start, finding a few stray tears in his eyes. Sure enough, Ratchet was right there, leaning over him, and looking in his eyes. Dylan scanned the room. It was his again, no sign of a crib, or painted animals, just his stuff, all for him. It was a dream after all, he realized; nothing had happened. "It's my room. You didn't have a sparkling... I didn't get kicked out. I'm not going back with my dad."

Ratchet looked perplexed, but now could see that Dylan must have had a nightmare about that. "Why would that ever happen? Even if I did have a sparkling, you wouldn't go anywhere near that man," Ratchet told him gently. "You understand that, don't you? I love you, that's not going away."

Dylan felt as the mech gently caressed his cheek, pushing some of his tears away. Ratchet knew that this was going to be a fear until the adoption was complete, as much as it sucked. He didn't like seeing Dylan get this way, but with three months to go before their adoption date (a fact he'd learned earlier that week) it was definitely not the end.

"I just... Sometimes I can't help but worry," Dylan muttered. "People have said that before."

"I'm different," Ratchet replied. "You'll figure that out eventually. I'm sure of it."

He began to carefully stroke the boy's back, making him relax slightly. Dylan knew that Ratchet was definitely at least trying to not be like that. But who knew if it was true? "Why don't you have your own kids anyway?" Dylan found himself asking. "You guys can have them at any age, right? I'd think you'd have at least one by now."

Ratchet sighed, thinking of how best to answer that question. It was true, a Cybertronian could have children at any age, but there were multiple reasons he hadn't. "Well to be frank, when I was young I didn't want sparklings. Let's face it, with my fragging childhood, it was terrifying to think of being a father. That changed when I was about the equivalent of thirty. I dated a lot back then and tried... But no one really clicked with me, and I never had kids..."

Ratchet paused a moment, his optics looking away. "Then the war happened. And having a sparkling was not viable. The Decepticons wiped out Youth Sectors, and hunted down Autobot younglings. I couldn't bring myself to bring a sparkling into the world." Dylan frowned. That was disturbing and obviously made him sad. "Then after that, I tried again... I came close to having a family but I failed. That's when I signed up for foster care. But heh, I guess I was too worried."

Dylan shook his head. That was a lot to swallow. Yet he got it, Ratchet was worried about the safety of any child he took in. Whereas now, the war was mostly over, meaning he could handle it better. "Still, you could have had a surrogate. You could have adopted a baby... Gloom's right, y'know. I'm a freak; an abomination. I've never been normal. And I never will be... I'm always gonna be a broken little piece of—"

Ratchet stopped him as the tears poured out. His holoform appeared on the bed, grabbing both of his arms in a gentle, yet firm manner. "Don't you DARE say that. I never want to hear those words out of your mouth again," Ratchet told him, trying to keep himself calm. "What that monster did to you is not your fault. You were a little boy, and you're still only a sparkling. What Gloom said about you was ignorant and disgraceful. And not true."

Dylan shook his head. "You don't know that!"

Ratchet held Dylan close, resting his head on top of the boy's. Giving a sharp intake, he looked at Dylan quietly. "Dylan, I do. Because only the truly ignorant view a victim in such light."He paused a moment. "You want to know why I chose you as my son? This is why. You need me more than a baby or a sparkling raised by me does. You need someone who's going to care. And Primus threw you in my path for that exact reason."

Dylan quietly leaned into his guardian's touch. Maybe that was true, he guessed. But he supposed he could never truly believe it. He felt that deep down, Ratchet would have preferred someone without these problems. But the other side of him, the more logical one, said otherwise. Ratchet could have had someone without problems if he wanted. But he hadn't chosen that, he'd chosen him.

After all, it had been Ratchet who'd asked if he wanted to be adopted.

"But I'm not perfect... Not like they would be."

"Dylan, no one in the universe is perfect. Even Optimus Prime. We're all, by definition, flawed. But we're also strong enough to keep on 'truckin' despite it all." Ratchet told him, taking a deep breath. "I mean, look at you. You've come so far since those days that you were in that attic. You're still here, you're still tough. Frag, this was the first time I even saw something someone said to you get so under your skin."

Dylan looked down. He really had broken more than ever that today. It made him blush; but he hoped he didn't look too weak, or weak at all. "I try... I try to be tough," Dylan replied. He pushed his tears away, but they kept coming anyway. "But sometimes it just hurts too much. Sometimes... Sometimes."

Ratchet gently let out a "shhhh," letting Dylan cry into his shoulder. The boy didn't need to complete the sentence; he knew it was hard. He knew that the boy would undoubtedly struggle with these thoughts his entire life. But at least now he wouldn't be doing that all alone.

"It's alright Dylan," Ratchet told him quietly. "But they're wrong, they all are. Take it from your dad. I love you, and I always will. No matter what some backwards, two-faced smug person tells me. You're mine."

Dylan nodded his head, but didn't say a word. In fact, no other words were spoken that night. Instead Dylan cried, and Ratchet held him until finally the boy fell asleep, clearly having cried out his sadness, and feeling safe knowing his nightmare would never come true. Ratchet tucked the boy back into bed, but as he and his real form stood to leave, the boy grabbed his arm. It was gentle, and soft, and the boy never opened his eyes. "Stay with me? Just a little longer."

Ratchet smiled, settling his real form on the ground. If that was what Dylan needed to sleep easily that night, he would oblige. "Always."


	20. Father

A/N: Thanks again as usual to my beta, **SIDEKICKS-ANONYMOUS** , for their work on this chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 20  
Father**

Dylan was in for a rude awakening.

It had started out fine; great even. Bumblebee had taken him down to the skate park for a few runs. And for a while, Dylan was having a great time. He probably shouldn't have let his friends convince him to sneak off. Nor should he have done a run on the thin hand-rail of a long flight of stairs. But Dylan hated backing down from a challenge, dangerous or not. And hey, he'd only regretted the decision after the crash!

He'd been sent crashing down it like a bullet. Hitting his back, leg, and arm on the way down. And while he'd found it to be an awesome wipe out, he'd also been scraped up and bruised badly. And what's more, in need of a doctor to look it over. Needless to say, he knew he was in trouble when Bumblebee of all people lectured him. He'd given Dylan enough of a mouthful that by the time he was in the doctor's office, waiting for Ratchet to come off surgery... Well, he was certainly not looking forward to that.

"Oh yeah, and another thing Ratchet." Dylan heard a voice outside the door. "Your son's here for some medical attention too."

Dylan couldn't even see him, but he could feel Ratchet's tension from there. A fact which was only confirmed when he heard his father's voice. "Dylan? What in the name of Primus happened!? Is he okay! He's not in ICU, is he!? Why did no one inform me!? Forget the surgery! I'd be there within seconds—"

"It was just a skateboarding accident," The other voice assured Ratchet. "He got beat up pretty bad. But it didn't look like anything worth interrupting a surgery for."

He had a feeling the other mech pointed at the door, because within the next second, the door flew open. Ratchet's optics widened at the sight of Dylan. And frankly, he was a sight to see, so he didn't really blame the mech. "Dylan Elijah Logan, what on Earth happened? What is this about you being in a skateboarding accident? I knew that sport was dangerous!"

"Ratchet, calm down, I'm fi—owwwwww," Dylan moaned as he moved the wrong way.

"Oh yes, I can tell you're 'fine.' 'Fine' enough that you'll be spending at least two days in bed!" Ratchet grunted, frustration in his optics. "So do you want to tell me what happened? The longer it takes, the more likely the punishment will be bad."

So Dylan did exactly as his guardian told him to, not wanting to be grounded for long. Ratchet listened as he began to clean his wounds, and run his scans. "Dylan, that is probably the dumbest stunt you've ever pulled. And doing it under Bumblebee's nose? You could have been hurt worse!" Ratchet huffed slightly. "I'm so angry right now. I trust when you go on that board that you'll act responsibly! Instead you go and get yourself hurt!"

"People get hurt all the time on skateboards."

"What you just described doing was reckless and stupid." Ratchet explained. "Primus, Dylan. I just... Ugh. You're not going to be skateboarding for a long while. End of story."

Dylan almost expected that Ratchet was going to hit him. Or yell, scream, or even throw something. Maybe one of his infamous wrenches, if he were so unlucky. "I'm sorry, Ratch. You can hit me if you want to... Or throw a wrench. I know I made you mad."

Ratchet wished he could be surprised that he equated anger with a beating; but he wasn't. Of course that would have been pushed on him by Gene. Perhaps, if this was anyone but his child, let alone his formerly abused one, he might have broke out a wrench. But the thought of so much as raising a hand to Dylan made him sick to his spark. And the fact that Dylan thought he might made him feel even sicker.

"I would never, Dylan. I'm angry, yes. But I'm also relieved you're alright." He told him with a sigh. "You can't go and do something like that, then expect me not to get upset. I love you, and I hate to see you hurt like this. It upsets any father who's a medic to have to work on their own child. No matter how minor."

Dylan felt as Ratchet ran two fingers along his back. The way he did it seemed to be comforting; that small reminder that no matter how mad he got, he still loved him. "Really, I'll be okay. I just got a little beat up. Please don't take away my board, I love skating."

Ratchet regarded the boy for a moment frowning. He knew that the boy needed to be more careful, but he also knew banning the sport would do nothing. "Of course not. But you're not riding for a while. Not until I can trust you to do so responsibly," He told him bluntly; his optics looking him over. "And until you've recovered. Primus, I hate seeing you in so much pain. Here, lay down on the berth, stay in here. I'll be back in about an hour when my shift's done. And then I'll get you home to bed."

Dylan looked up at Ratchet. He could do that. He laid back, feeling pained, but trying to relax. Ratchet nodded and left, but he could hear him cursing outside. He never knew anyone could be so angry, or frustrated and not throw a punch like that. Yet Ratchet was yet again proving to him how strange things like that could happen.

...

"Dad?"

Ratchet stopped in his tracks when he heard Dylan's voice. He prepared for Dylan to be having a nightmare while sleeping off his bruises. But when he backed up and looked in the doorway, Dylan was only sitting up. "Dylan? What's wrong? Was it a nightmare? You know that your "dad" can't come in here. I put all the security systems online and-."

"No, uh, I was just calling for you."

Ratchet looked at Dylan for a long moment, his optics twisting a bit. Dylan had just said "Dad"? That he couldn't exactly believe. But he must have heard it wrong, right? The word was probably Ratchet, or maybe Ratch. "Oh, sorry, I must have not been hearing right. I thought you'd called out 'dad.'" He explained. "What did you need, Dylan?"

"Uhhh... I kinda did."

Ratchet stood there for an even longer moment. This time, coolant did leave his optics. He tried to push the tears back, but Dylan could see them nonetheless. Dylan had expected the emotional response but in his mind, Ratchet had earned it. He'd been earning it more and more the last few days. Gene had never earned it, and he'd referred to him as "dad" too long. But now, now, he had someone who deserved the title and he hadn't used the word? That just wasn't right.

Ratchet calmed himself after a moment, and asked his next question. "You sure you're ready for that? No one's rushing you."

Dylan looked at Ratchet, chewing his lips. But he didn't hesitate, not even for a second. Instead, he finally smiled, and nodded his head. "Well, I can't think of anyone else in my life who can fit the name "dad"." Dylan told him with a chuckle, moving a bit and groaning in pain. "Is that OK?"

Ratchet nodded; he didn't hesitate either. "More than OK. Now what's going on? The ice pack on your back melt? Here, let me see if I can get that worked out."

Dylan noticed the tears almost instantly. He smirked a little, he had never seen Ratchet cry. So it was really something quite interesting to see. "Dad, are you crying?" He asked cheekily.

Ratchet looked at his coolant, and wiped it away. Oh Primus, had he just gotten emotional in front of Dylan? Better yet, that emotional? A few tears had been shed at "I love you". But feeling major coolant tears, really ones he couldn't control. He pushed them back. "No of course not... I just have uh... Something in my optics." Ratchet tried, pausing a moment to see the look of disbelief in his son's eyes. "Alright, yeah, I'm crying... I just, I never thought I'd hear that. I kept hoping you'd find the courage to say it. And it was just... It came without warning."

Dylan smiled, he knew that feeling. That was how he had felt when Ratchet had asked to adopt him and become his dad. And now, to think he could return the favor, that Ratchet could now feel happy knowing he was "dad", well that made him just as happy. "You think Uncle Aid would be okay with him calling him uncle too? I mean I'd been thinking about it for a while, but..."

"I think he'd jump for joy." Ratchet smirked. "Now I'll ask again, what did you need?"

Dylan nodded, leaning forward, as Ratchet smiled. He'd known better and had sent his holoform, and before long returned with a new ice pack. "Man, this bites. I'm sorry again, seriously. I just... They were older and I wanted to impress them. They'd just kinda started to accept me in that circle. Since I used to use the skate park downtown. They said it'd be fun."

Ratchet frowned a bit; of course Dylan was peer pressured. It made sense, he'd been pressured into enough things after all. "Yeah, well, you need to stop listening to bad influences. You terrified Bumblebee and I after all." Ratchet explained, his voice even. "I'm letting you skateboard again because I feel you've learned your lesson. But if you even begin to do something reckless again. You'll definitely be spending less time on that board."

Dylan nodded, letting Ratchet stroke his hair. He could tell that the mech was being honest and serious. Something that made him relax, and nervous all at once. "Yes sir, you got it. But uh, thanks for not making me give up skating. It's kinda part of who I am. And I promised to show Scarlet how to skate soon too." He explained.

"You won't be showing anyone anything until you're recovered."

Dylan knew that was true; and even when he did recover he knew it'd be hard to get on a board after that spill. He sighed, looking down at Ratchet. "Yeah, I screwed up pretty bad huh? The not-so-perks of growing up without a role model." He laughed. "I think I'm gonna try and take a nap again. Seeing as I don't have television."

"Yeah, you still screwed up. And no amount of 'dad' will fix that." Ratchet snickered. "Get a nap, Dylan. Your body needs it."

Dylan smirked, laying his head on his pillow silently. He watched as Ratchet left, and then smiled a bit. "Love you, dad."

Ratchet looked back, a smile crossing his face. "I love you" and "dad" in the same sentence? That was something that Ratchet could more than get used to. "I love you too, son. I'll come wake you up when I have dinner ordered."

Dylan couldn't keep the smile off his face.

...

The next few days moved by faster, as Dylan napped and recovered. But by the time he was back on his feet, things seemed to have changed. Word spread like wildfire to his friends about his injury; some even heard about him calling Ratchet dad. Scarlet and Shawn had been proud of him for getting to that point; and to say the least, he was feeling the same way. Even if he now was still restricted from anything after school, or skating for a while.

Ratchet kept to him being grounded, despite being happy with the stride. A fact which surprised Dylan, but he had also seen it coming. But now that Ratchet was "dad" something profound was happening to Dylan. Something even he couldn't totally comprehend. Not only did he safe and loved, but he also, for the first time, felt like a true member of the Autobot family. Perhaps it was all it had taken: that transition from "Ratchet" to "dad". Or perhaps it had been there all along, waiting for him to take a grasp of it.

One night, he woke up from a nap on the couch to hear the sound of mech's talking. Of course, after a moment, he found Ratchet was looking over a data pad. But rather than the typical data pad, this one had a video. Of Ratchet, younger, and another mech. The other mech had solid red paint and blue optics, and looked to be a little older. Dylan didn't even need to watch the video of him and Ratchet messing around long to know it was Siren.

Which meant, at least to him, that he was watching and reminiscing. "So that was grandpa, huh?" Ratchet turned his head from his seat at his desk in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you from the den and I just came in to see what was going on."

Ratchet smiled, and lowered a hand to the ground. Once Dylan had climbed up, he gently placed his son onto his shoulder. With a quiet nod, he gave a small sigh, and looked at him. "Yep, that's your grandsire, Siren. This was my graduation from the Iacon Academy. Top of my medical class as well!" He chuckled. "I suppose everything the last few days got me thinking of him more. About what he did for me, about how much he would have loved you..."

Dylan smiled, looking at the mech with a nod. He could tell just by the look of the mech they would have gotten along. The friendly, gentle way he treated Ratchet said it all. "I wish I could have met him. I bet he was a cool guy. But I guess he's been gone a long time, huh?" He asked.

Ratchet smiled sadly; indeed, he had been dead a very long time. It hadn't been in the war, but rather a spark attack in his old age. "Yes, a very long time, along with your grandcarrier."

"Did they ever actually adopt you?"

Ratchet smiled, looking over at the boy with a nod. "Yes they did. When I was twenty vorns old, they told me they wanted me to be a permanent addition to the family. They made me their adoptive creation officially... It was the best day of my life." Ratchet explained. "They didn't have any creations. So they gave me exactly what I needed and I gave them the same."

"I think I know that story." Dylan smiled.

Ratchet ran a finger along his hair, and tossed it a bit. Indeed, history was repeating itself, though earlier in Dylan's case. Some days, he wondered what Siren, and his mate, Leresta, would think of him now. What they'd think about what Dylan and him had. But then he remembered that they would have been happy; and likely proud of him for passing on his luck to another young boy.

Let alone the young boy that he now called his son.

"So, now that you're awake." Ratchet replied, turning off the data pad. "I'm thinking that you've been punished enough. Why don't we go for a movie? Or out to dinner. I'm even getting a little bored being stuck in this house all day myself."

Dylan smiled, nodding his head as Ratchet stood up to head out of the room. Ratchet would swear he felt a pair of gentle hands on his shoulder. Making him stop for just a single moment. He knew the gentle touch anywhere, and knew that it was his own adoptive creators' way of saying: "We are proud of you, Ratchet."

A sentiment that, if it were the case, he was more than thankful for.


	21. Forever Family

A/N: The chapter you've all been waiting for. :)

Thanks to my awesome beta, **SIDEKICKS-ANONYMOUS** , for working on this chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 21**  
 **Forever Family**

The next couple of months passed without much excitement, other than their impending date in court. Dylan calling Ratchet "dad" had made the adoption feel that much more official. Dylan had continued his testing of Ratchet though, even with the "dad" equation. A week ago, most recently, he'd been lectured about being out past curfew. It had worried Ratchet sick, but despite his frustration, he hadn't given him back. Just like he hadn't given him back when he'd hurt himself doing a stupid skateboarding stunt.

Nor had he when he'd run away so soon in his placement. Or when he'd questioned Ratchet about whether or not he really wanted him after the talk with Gloom. Or last month, when he'd thrown a fit over Ratchet still not letting him skateboard. Or, perhaps the hardest test of all: the one he couldn't control... The long nights he had trouble sleeping because of the fears his nightmares gave. No, Ratchet was passing all these tests, and showed no signs of ever leaving him before the adoption.

So he decided one last test would tell him for sure.

Dylan wasn't sure how Ratchet would react to him running away again. But all the same, he'd done it. He'd packed his bags, left a note, and hopped out the window. Ratchet would be recharging, he figured. And trusted him enough he'd probably not notice him gone until the next morning. But he'd also purposefully run somewhere he knew Ratchet would identify with them, and come to, reacting however he would.

So he'd made the long walk to the movie theater they frequented.

He knew that he couldn't exactly go inside, or break in. But his plan was to loiter in front of the theater until Ratchet found him. It wasn't a big deal, he figured, he'd give Ratchet about three hours after sunrise. After that, he might as well prepare to leave the home anyway. He'd just about settled in by the outdoor ticket booth when the shadow fell over the moonlight.

"How did you find me? How did you even know I ran away that quick?" Dylan breathed when he recognized the shadow.

Ratchet snorted, finding it amusing. The boy thought that after nearly eight months he didn't know him? He simply crossed his arms, and looked at Dylan. "Because I know my son. I knew you weren't done testing me. And the only thing you really hadn't tried, at least not in a while, was running away from home again. I had three spots picked out; this was stop number one."

Dylan stared at him; well, he was passing with flying colors so far. The thought that Ratchet knew him well enough now to know where he was going almost made him smile. But then came the question. "Am I in trouble?"

"Hardly. You didn't scare me, nor do anything I didn't know you would. That said, let's not make a habit of this, shall we?" Dylan nodded. "So, you were still having doubts this was going to happen? Even after all we've been through?"

Dylan looked down, guilt wrenching at his gut. He didn't mean to hurt Ratchet, but he had to be sure. He had to be sure that Ratchet wouldn't give up. "I just... I had to be positive, dad. We only have two weeks before my adoption." He explained. "I had to test you one last time. And if it helps, you passed."

Ratchet chuckled. As if he wouldn't pass—especially at this point. Ratchet couldn't imagine living without Dylan anymore. The kid had gone from some little punk who'd tagged him and he took pity on to… well, his entire world. "Dylan, in two weeks you're going to walk into a court room Dylan Elijah Logan. And leave there Dylan Elijah Chet. No amount of testing is ever going to change that." He told him as Dylan walked forward. "I need you to trust me about that. Because the thought of living without you scares me. I don't think I'd want that to happen."

Dylan hung his head it made him feel horrible when Ratchet said things like that. Ratchet really had made that clear so many times. But how many times could someone like him go through heartbreak? How could he not question things? "I'm sorry dad, I really am. It's just—I've been screwed over so many times. It's just a reflex. I can't help it." He muttered quietly.

Ratchet nodded his head, knowing that the boy was being truthful. "Well, the good news is you won't be anymore. Just two weeks, Dylan. Two weeks and this state, and the department of social services have no say in your life. No more heartache, no more testing." He explained. "You think you can hold out that long for me?"

Dylan nodded his head, picking up his backpack. He knew that he was going home, which was a good thing. But at the same time, he wished the adoption was sooner. That he could push his fears away quickly and never worry about this again. But unfortunately, that wasn't the way these things worked. It was simply the facts that he'd have to wait, and worry more and more...

Until that dotted line was signed, he knew he had to.

...

Shawn and Scarlet teased him about it the next day at school. Scarlet pointed out to her boyfriend they had done much worse. She, herself, had stolen money from Ironhide and headed for a bus station. Shawn admitted that after a huge fight, he had, in an unplanned way, thrown a fit and broken a lot of stuff in his room. Compared to those two "tests" before their adoptions, Dylan guessed he had given it to Ratchet easy, like they said.

Scarlet explained that it was probably because he knew that he was loved. That though he still had paranoia, his heart knew the way Ratchet looked at him. Dylan had simply laughed her off, and flicked a fry at her in response. It had taken him a long time to know Ratchet was looking at him in a soft manner, after all. But then again, maybe Scarlet was right; he'd come to learn since they started dating that she usually was.

Before long though, that conversation and event were a distant memory.

Dylan woke up the morning of May twenty-first rather nervous. He'd been waiting for this day for a while; both fearfully and excitedly. He noted that Ratchet looked like he'd hardly gotten any recharge. But he figured his father wouldn't; after all, he'd hardly slept himself. He knew they were both nervous as could be at the thought that in four hours they'd be in court. Making this all official, and bringing an end to Gene's hold over him forever.

Ratchet insisted he dressed as nicely as he could for the judge. Dylan hated it. The suit he was given made him feel weird. But he knew if he fought the mech on it, he'd be throwing more stress onto Ratchet, so he decided not to.

Of course, about two hours after they were up, First Aid came over. He'd immediately swooped Dylan into his hands in excitement, acting like he was the one doing the adopting. But then again, he supposed in a way he was. He was gaining a nephew; and Dylan, in turn, was gaining an uncle. An uncle, a dad, godparents, a whole support system. Dylan could feel the knots forming in excitement and nerves at the thought.

Finally, Ratchet entered his bedroom where he'd retreated to gather his thoughts and announced it was time for them to go to the court house. The drive was filled with nervousness, and neither of them really said anything. But once they'd entered the court house, Ratchet finally spoke up. "Nervous?"

Dylan nodded his head quietly.

"Don't be. Which is a little hypocritical of me I suppose. I'm scared out of my wits. I haven't been this scared since my own adoption hearing."

Dylan looked at Ratchet. Why was he nervous? It wasn't like Dylan had anywhere to go. He wasn't going to back down—if anything, Ratchet had the reason to say no. He kept quiet until after Ratchet had gone over to Reese, who had met them there, and was signing them in.

"You're scared? Why? Was it something I did? Seriously, dad. I thought you'd be excited." He felt his heart pounding.

Ratchet chuckled, looking over at Dylan. "Not like that, kiddo. Just... Now that it's happening the weight of it all is falling on me. It's probably a lot like how you're feeling. We're taking the next and last great big step into an adventure. I'm about to have a legal son." He paused. "For so long I never thought that I'd have a family like this. And now, to have it happening..."

"I know." Dylan replied. "It's strange."

He suddenly found Ratchet's holoform beside him, taking his hand. It was a gentle squeeze, but one that sent some relief into Dylan. "It's going to be good, though. We're gonna be family, Dylan; real, legal, no-questions-asked family. Doing this is scary, but the end result is what matters." He explained. "Think of it this way. What's the worst that happens? You're stuck with a miserable old grump for another four years. At eighteen, you can move out."

Dylan blinked. "Why would I?"

Ratchet chuckled, pulling him a little closer. That was what he liked to hear. After all, parenting wasn't just an eighteen year job. It was a lifetime commitment that he greatly looked forward to.

"Aw come on Ratch, your son loves you. Like he'd ever do that." First Aid pulled an arm around his brother's shoulders and grinned. "Just take a deep breath, both of you. In a couple of minutes he's gonna be yours. We'll go to Ironhide's house and celebrate, and Dylan will never have to worry about anything ever again."

Dylan nodded his head, knowing he was right. Ratchet on the other hand, took a deep breath. "I suppose you have a point. And I'm sure if our adoptive families were here they'd say the same thing. But I'm not going to relax until that dotted line is signed." Ratchet admitted. "I wish they would hurry it up. I knew I should have brought Ironhide along. He knows how to calm me down best."

Dylan had to admit, he was glad that Ratchet hadn't. The idea of being the center of attention was scary enough. But to add several different people to it? That was nerve-wracking.

"I think the small fry might have been a little worried about that. Beside, he'll be there to celebrate, right?" First Aid winked at his nephew.

Ratchet had been about to answer when someone came out of the chamber doors. "Ratchet and Dylan Logan?"

Ratchet tensed but looked at Dylan, letting his holoform disappear. After a moment, Ratchet hefted a breath. "Here we go, kiddo. We're up." He looked up. "That would be us!"

Dylan didn't say a word as they entered the empty court room. Being here was new to him, as he'd never been in enough trouble with law enforcement to be in court. But if this is how you felt when you weren't in trouble, he never wanted to know how it felt when you were. The judge sat at a podium—an Autobot, much to Dylan's surprise. As a result, Ratchet carefully scooped him up, and set him on his shoulder, allowing him a better look at the mech that would be overseeing his adoption.

He was a tall, stout mech with a big beer belly. Two appendages like spectacles sat at the bridge of his nose, and made his blue optics look large by comparison. "Alright then, we are gathered here today to oversee and finalize the adoption of Dylan Elijah Logan. Who I am guessing is you, young man?" Dylan nodded his head shyly. "A pleasure. Is the boy's social worker, Reese Cunningham present?"

Reese looked up with a smile he'd had for a while now. Dylan wasn't sure if he was happy to see him adopted, or happy to have him out of his hair. But either way, the man shifted some papers in his hands and nodded. "Yes, your honor. Present and accounted for."

"Perfect. My name is Judge Cornerstone." The mech, Cornerstone, greeted. "Now, before we go any further. I wish to confirm some information. The boy's biological father, Eugene Logan, is out of prison, but has had his parental rights completely severed and has no bearing on the child's adoption."

Reese nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit. "Yes sir. Eugene Logan's rights were terminated years ago, after it had been discovered Dylan had been molested by him. As such, he has no right to interrupt this adoption, given we have looked into his current state and have found he is still unfit to ever put a hand on this child again."

Ratchet snorted, unable to control himself. "I'd love to see the creep try."

Cornerstone nodded, pushing his "glasses" further up the bridge of his nose. "Very well, and that makes the mech before me Ratchet. It truly is an honor, sir. I have heard a many great things about your exploits in the war. And to be overseeing the adoption of your son brings me great joy." Dylan seemed to take a deep breath at that. "My first question goes to the young man. You're nearly fifteen, Dylan. So my question is simple: Do you wish to see this adoption go through? Are you happy in his care, and are you prepared to spend the rest of your life as his child?"

Dylan hadn't expected to be asked such a thing. He felt his chest tighten, and his blue eyes turn up at Ratchet. He wasn't sure he'd ever wanted anything more in his whole life. And in that moment, he felt a great deal of feelings. Excitement, nervousness, uncertainty... Where did life go from here? It was a big question mark, but one he was ready to face, and he knew it.

"Yes sir. I think you'd have to take me away fighting tooth and nail." Dylan chuckled. "I also want to take the last name 'Chet.' I don't know if you know that... But I want that. I want a totally fresh start."

Ratchet's optics gleamed at that, even if he knew that the judge was aware. Cornerstone smiled a little, nodding his head. "Yes, I have that down here in my notes. You've actually saved me a question today." Dylan blushed quietly, whistling to himself. "Alright then, my next question is for you, Ratchet. By taking Dylan, you know that you are taking full responsibility. You will no longer get a check from social services. You will be required to love, provide for, and take care of him as you would any child of your own energon..."

"Is that all? Sounds an awful like what I'm doing already." Ratchet put his hands on his hips, and looked at his son. "Yes sir, I'm very aware of what this means. I've waited for the pleasure of such responsibility, and I welcome it with open arms. At first sight, I may not seem to be the type of mech who would be in this position. But it is my greatest pleasure to call this boy my son." He finished before turning his attention back to the judge.

Dylan tried to hide his tears, but knew they were there. Every time Ratchet said something like that, it reminded him that this was no dream. Today, he was getting a forever family. And no amount of his testing was going to change that.

"Well that is the answer I like to hear. It always warms my spark." Cornerstone spoke up. "Now then, Mr. Cunningham, do you have the paperwork?"

"Right here your honor."

Dylan watched as the mech's holoform took the paperwork. And then Ratchet himself activated his own one, taking some steps forward. Dylan watched nervously as papers were signed before finally, the real form looked up. "Well then, with my fondest wishes of luck to you. I hereby give full legal custody of Dylan Elijah Logan to Ratchet, who hereafter this court, and our nation, shall recognize as his legal father." He then added. "I also approve the name change. So that this court, and our nation shall recognize him as Dylan Elijah Chet from this moment forth. Congratulations to you both."

Dylan couldn't believe that after all that time, it was so easy. But the sound of the gavel banging echoed through the room. And within seconds he was off Ratchet's shoulder, and held to his chest. Dylan couldn't control the sobs, the relief... It was done. He'd never again have to worry about where he'd sleep, what roof he slept under... Or about being taken away again.

He had a home; he had a family.

"There you go, youngling. No more worrying, huh? You're mine, now and forever." Ratchet chuckled, trying to calm Dylan's crying.

"It feels good... It feels really good." Dylan muttered. "I love you, dad."

"I love you too."

They stood there, hugging (Dylan to the best of his ability) for a long time. First Aid stepped up, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "What am I, chopped liver? Can't I give my nephew a big hug?" Ratchet smirked, handing the boy over. First Aid held him to his own chest. "Oh buddy boy, I'm so happy. I've got the best nephew around."

"Uncle Aid, you're crushing me!"

"Oh, sorry." First Aid laughed. "I'm just so happy to see this happen."

Again, a long hug followed before they lowered him to Reese. He'd only had Dylan as a case for a little over a year. But if there was one thing Dylan would never forget, it was that unlike his previous social worker, Reese had never give up on him. He'd fought to find him a home, and finally, he had. He'd convinced him that Ratchet was the right fit, even when at first he hadn't been so sure.

As a result, he found himself hugging the man first. It surprised Reese, but slowly, the man returned the hug. "Thanks for not letting me say "no" that first day." Dylan told him quietly. "And thank you... For not giving up on me. Not like my first social worker did."

"You're welcome. It was my pleasure. You're a good kid. And these guys are going to take care of you." Reese told him, tousling his hair a bit as Dylan smiled. "Just promise me when I hear about you from First Aid it'll be all good things. No tagging, or giving them too much trouble."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, why don't you all get together for a picture?" Reese spoke up, taking out a camera. "Your first photo as a family is always the most important, right?"

That first picture turned into a dozen or so pictures. Some of them were with just Ratchet and Dylan, some with the two of them and First Aid. Eventually, they added in Reese, and then the judge, before having a picture of all of them done by an assistant and calling it a day. After that, Ratchet led Dylan outside the court house. Away from the court, away from social services, and away from the life he'd struggled with forever.

So ended his life as Dylan Elijah Logan; and so began his life as Dylan Elijah Chet.

...

On that same day, Eugene Logan got the news.

His friends in low places had found his son at last. He didn't know much about where Dylan was, but according to some paperwork they'd uncovered, he was somewhere in Nevada. Which left many cities, but also gave him excuse to get out of his crappy little apartment. He knew he could get a bus down to Nevada, as far as he knew. And then, slowly, he'd make his ways through the cities.

Ask enough questions, and eventually you'd get an answer.

He looked over the picture that had come with the information with a sick smile. The boy had grown up, that much was true. But he knew his boy, he knew he'd be easy to sway back to his way of thinking. And even easier to get back into that docile manner he'd instilled in him.

He hoped the boy had enjoyed his freedom; because it was soon coming to an end.

...

A/N: I know, I'm evil. Dylan's officially Ratchet's. But Gene's on the way. We'll get the adoption party next chapter though. So at least there's that to look forward to!


	22. Celebrating Love

A/N: Thanks to my great beta, **SIDEKICKS-ANONYMOUS** , for their work on this chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 22  
Celebrating Love**

Dylan didn't mind being the center of attention after the hearing.

In fact, he didn't mind much of anything. The fact that he was adopted, that this was all over, made him happy. Ironhide went all out on his godson's adoption party, decorating his home like it was already his fifteenth birthday. But instead of a "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" banner, he was welcomed with a big banner reading: "WELCOME TO THE FAMILY DYLAN CHET." It was accompanied by a chorus of congratulations from various Autobots he'd become acquainted with.

Shawn had pulled him into a bear hug almost instantly. Scarlet's hug had lingered as long as Ironhide would allow, at which point he and Chromia, as his godparents, were next, followed by Bumblebee. The rest interchanged between hugs, fist bumps, and simple "congrats." It felt weird, and good all at once to be congratulated, but also strange. Though he also knew that it was their way of showing him that they were glad he now had a family. That he and Ratchet were now an official family.

Family…he had that now. He had that and more.

Most of the members of Team Prime were there. The only exception was Optimus, who had wanted to be there but had been called away on business. He promised to make it up to a very forgiving Ratchet next month, when he'd be in town around the time of Dylan's birthday anyway. The thought of more celebration after this was crazy to Dylan. But Ratchet insisted it would happen anyway. It would be Dylan's first birthday with his family after all.

For the moment though, Dylan was simply enjoying the party. Ratchet was carrying him proudly on his shoulder now as he drank energon, and Dylan a soda. The two of them enjoyed the small talk as the music sounded out.

"Now that you're officially in the parent club, I hope you're ready." Ironhide clapped Ratchet on the back as he spoke. "It's a really fun club. But you're getting right into the teenage years."

"He's had practice enough." Bulkhead chuckled from his side. "He's had Dylan for long enough at least."

Dylan grinned too, leaning against his father's neck. The mech definitely did have a lot of experience with teenagers now. Ratchet however, only seemed to smile proudly, and looked over at Dylan. "Well, I already know I've adopted a punk." He said in a way that said it was in a loving way, thankfully to Dylan. "But I'm happy to have this little punk in my home and spark."

"Yeah, well I've got a grumpy old medic for a dad now." Dylan teased. "If anything, I have reason to complain."

"Oh? This from the boy who I found spray painting me for kicks!"

Ratchet simply tickled Dylan's rib gently at that. Dylan laughed, a serious laugh that he hardly ever did at all. As it died down, Dylan simply continued to grin. Though a small whistle grabbed each of their attentions. "Hey! Dylan, come down here a minute!"

Dylan let himself be lowered to the ground in front of Scarlet. The girl grabbed his hand, and gently led him away. To tell the truth, Dylan hoped it would be the two of them alone. But he was somewhat relieved when she dragged him over to Shawn. "Finally got him away from his new dad?" Shawn teased.

"Well, you know Ratchet. He's a proud poppa." Scarlet stated as she took Dylan's hand gently. "What about you, Dyl? You a pretty proud son?"

Dylan let himself smile a little wider at that. Even if he still somewhat expected Ratchet could change his mind, he was. He felt proud to finally be a part of someone's family. "Pretty happy, at least. I'm still kind of shocked this even happened though, honestly. I was ready for Dad to change his mind."

"Pffffft, yeah right! Ratchet is beaming!" Shawn laughed. "He was probably just as excited as you were!"

Scarlet grinned, believing that she didn't have anything to add to that. Dylan simply smiled in response, leaning his head against hers as well. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I just... It's still pretty hard to believe." He paused a moment. "You guys have to know what I mean, don't you?"

"Of course I do! But look, man." Shawn pulled an arm around him, pulling him over as he motioned around. "This whole party is for you! You've got a family now, a real, serious family. Believe it or not."

Dylan laughed, he supposed his friend was right. He had family now, family that he was hoping would, indeed, be forever. "Yeah, I guess I do. As crazy as it is, seriously. To think a few months ago I would have done anything to get away from my own dad." He admitted. "I would have laughed at the thought that he would be my dad."

"Scarlet knows all about that. She should tell you her story sometime."

Scarlet slugged Shawn for that one, as if she didn't want to bring it up. Dylan only grinned, taking a hold of her hand. "We don't have to talk about it. I was just saying." Dylan told him calmly.

Scarlet grinned a little, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pulling him from Shawn. She looked into his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath. "You know, I haven't quite given you my present. I know you're gonna get a lot today, adoption day and all... But that's okay." She explained. "Mine's a little more personal."

Dylan chuckled a little, nervous. He knew what Scarlet had in mind. They hadn't had their first kiss yet, but Dylan had held off. He wanted to wait until it was clear that he would be there long enough to get serious. And that was now, that was this moment.

"Wow, should I turn around? Are you guys going to make out? I'd hate to be the witness when Ironhide finds out." Shawn teased.

The couple chuckled nervously. But Dylan merely watched Scarlet, waiting for her to make the move. It could never be him, no, he didn't have the guts. She leaned in closely, and after a moment, he did too before meeting her lips. The kiss was deeper, and more meaningful than anything Dylan had experienced. It lasted a few moments before they noticed two eyes on them, or rather optics.

Dylan could tell that Ironhide was twitching with a bit of uncertainty. But after a slow moment, he looked at Ratchet, then poked him. "You better make sure that boy of yours doesn't go any further than that, or I will be punting him out the door." Ironhide snorted.

Though Dylan couldn't hear it, he could tell by the look on Ratchet's face that he was amused. "Well, I for one want grandcreations. So at some point they have to." Ratchet joked. "But I agree, the thought of anything more scares me. But we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves."

Ironhide smirked. "With a kiss that passionate, how couldn't we?"

Ratchet chose to ignore that sentiment.

...

The rest of the gifts were mostly things that Ratchet and Dylan could do together. Tickets to different events, a few board games (something Ratchet didn't even begin to know what to do with), and a few gag gifts for Ratchet. Ratchet also got a few books in private that his friends believed might be good for him. Different data pad books on parenting the hurt child, to be exact. They included different things to expect from here on out, and many years down the road as well.

Dylan got a few things for just him as well. First Aid had given him several framed pictures of the best shots they'd taken over their time as a family. Ironhide and Chromia had gotten him an official "welcome to the family" present: an extremely fine art set unlike anything Dylan had ever seen. Ratchet had seemed flabbergasted that they would do something like that, but all the same allowed it. Though he now wondered how they would handle his birthday if nothing else.

Around the time that things were, slowly, dying down, Ratchet clicked his energon cube to get everyone's attention. Dylan realized he was going to make a toast. Admittedly, he wanted to shrink away at the thought of Ratchet actually saying something about him to all of these people, but of course, his father gave him no time to react.

"Alright, alright, everyone," Ratchet called out. "If you'll all give me a minute I'd like to say a few words to my son before this party starts to disperse." He explained.

"Dad..." Dylan groaned from the nearby couch, covering his blushing face.

"Oh don't give me that 'dad' business, kid. You get your little aft up here, I have some things to say."

Scarlet had to practically push him off the couch, but Dylan finally approached the mech. Ratchet took that moment to hoist Dylan up on his shoulder. To get even more eyes and optics on him, Dylan supposed. Just what he didn't want. "Dylan Elijah Chet... The first time I met you, there was something about you that I couldn't put my finger on. Something I still do not fully understand to this day." Ratchet began. "But whatever that feeling was... It told me to keep an eye on you."

Dylan blushed even harder at that. Yet despite that feeling of embarrassment, he let Ratchet go on. The mech "cleared his throat" slightly, and tensed a little. "Well, at the time I thought maybe I was crazy. Or just thinking wistfully that you could be the sparkling I'd hoped for. But then a miracle of some sort happened... And if anyone here knows me, they know I'm not really one for 'miracles.'" Ratchet got a bit of laughter at that. "You became just that. You came into life, and frag, I can honestly say it's never been the same since."

"Dad, you're—" Dylan murmured.

"Oh hush! It's true. Dylan, I've waited all my life to give someone that feeling I never got until so late in my life. So I want to thank you for riding this entire storm with me. I know I'm not a perfect father—in fact, I'm probably not even close to what you were expecting." Ratchet replied. "But thank you for giving me the chance to at least, try, to be the parent that you need. The wild ride was worth it, son. We made it."

Okay, that bit, even Dylan had to admit, choked him up a bit. Ratchet raised his energon cube. "To Dylan, and to the rest of my long, long life with him."

Dylan barely heard the return gesture to Ratchet. But after a long moment, he too clicked on his glass, grabbing everyone's attention. "Okay, I guess it's my turn now, uh... I didn't really prepare anything, and I'm not even really good at this." Dylan explained.

Ratchet looked surprised that Dylan wanted to speak, and return the speech at all. Yet he didn't really interrupt him, nor did he say a word, he simply listened. "Ratchet, when I first met you... I thought you were the grumpiest old mech I had ever met. And seriously, over the year I was in Jasper before that? I'd met a lot of them." Ratchet almost frowned, but kept it in. "All I wanted you to do at the beginning was go away. Just leave me alone, and stop acting the way you were. I didn't get why you even cared, especially about my foster parents..."

He paused, taking a long, deep breath. "But I guess somewhere along the way, I realized you did it because you cared. You cared about what happened to me on a level no one else did. Then you took me into your home, you made me a part of this, forgive me, insane family. I don't think I could ever thank you enough for what you did for me. And I'm pretty sure if I did, it wouldn't come out right. But I'm gonna try anyway. Thank you... Thank you for not giving up on me. And for teaching me what love really is."

Everyone stared at him for a moment, though he could make out a few "awww"s in the audience. "Oh uh, to Ratchet!"

"To Ratchet!" The crowd cheered.

He felt as Ratchet gently ran a finger along his side, looking at him with a deep smile. And for the second time, Dylan didn't mind he had been the center of attention again. Because Ratchet deserved every thank you he gave him. That much, he knew.

...

When the party had died down, Dylan and Ratchet were left alone for the night. They found themselves on the couch, resting and relaxing. Dylan was resting in the mech's lap in a way that Ratchet had to keep his legs close together to allow. Meanwhile, he was gently running circles along Dylan's stomach in a tender way as he did some work. Ratchet carefully looked down at his son with a smile. His son, that was exactly what Dylan was now. No one else wast listed as his parent outside of birth records, and no one would be recognized as such.

He finally had his dream of starting a family.

Did that family end with him and Dylan? Well, Ratchet couldn't be too sure of that. But for now, he enjoyed the feeling that there was a family now. Primus had brought him this boy, and he would forever be thankful for it. And better yet, thankful to himself that he hadn't simply written him off that day in the police department.

Dylan finally spoke. "I didn't think it was even possible to be this happy when I met you, y'know. But I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am right now... Just sitting here with the two of us and knowing you're my dad."

Ratchet smirked, rubbing the top of his head. "I remember it being euphoric myself. It's almost like after all that waiting, you still couldn't imagine how it feels. That goes double for now... When I now know you're not just my son in my spark, but legally as well."

Dylan smiled, carefully snuggling into his father's armor. It really did feel surreal, he thought. Knowing that Ratchet and First Aid were truly his family now. That he never again had to worry about Eugene Logan showing his face around there, or taking him away again. Eugene Logan—the fact he thought of him as that spoke volumes. He'd always thought of him as "father" to differentiate him from Ratchet, but now... Now he was nothing to him, another name out there in the world.

He'd hardly noticed that tears of joy had begun to move down his eyes again. But when he did, he quickly tried to wipe them away with the back of his arm. This was a happy day, and good tears, or not, he did not want to spend it crying.

"Why in the world are you crying?" Ratchet asked quietly.

"I shouldn't, but I am. I never thought I'd be free of him, Dad. I thought no matter what he'd stand in the way of me and a family. But now I just... I don't know. I don't know how to handle the emotions I'm feeling. I've never felt this way before." He explained.

Ratchet moved Dylan so he was sitting up, rubbing his back gently. He could imagine the insane amount of emotions no doubt going through the boy's mind. "I know... It's probably a little overwhelming. But it's a good change, is it not?" Dylan nodded his head in agreement, no argument was going to come there. "Then it's tears of joy. Sometimes we all have to shed those, Dylan. Remember when you called me Dad?"

Dylan chuckled a little, nodding. "Yeah, I know... I'm just not used to it. Or being so open with my emotions and stuff..."

Ratchet nodded. He had a hard time with it sometime too. But he knew it was becoming easier to show his emotions around Dylan. Because once one had a child, they wanted that child to feel loved, and cared for at all times. Even if it meant letting those emotions they sometimes hid come to the forefront. "It's okay, Dylan. I know it's hard once you put up walls. I understand more than a lot of people. But don't be afraid to show it around me. I'm more than happy to talk through emotions when you need to."

Dylan looked up at his father quietly. "So was it worth it then?"

"Was what worth it, son?"

"Going through all this trouble to adopt someone like me. Someone... brok—"

Ratchet picked him up and held Dylan close to his chest. "You're not broken; and of course it was worth every minute I spent. I couldn't be happier to have you as my son." He told him gently. "I asked YOU for the right to adopt you, son. Not even the other way around. Surely tell me that tells you enough how much I love you."

Dylan smiled softly, leaning his head against the chest. He understood that, but he also needed that affirmation, that he did love him. That he wasn't doing anything out of pity, or out of "obligation". "I know... I just want to make sure. I mean, I just..."

"I understand. Many children in your situation have the same thoughts. It was part of the research I did upon taking you into my home." Ratchet replied honestly, running a finger along his back. "There is no reason for you to ever fear that I don't love you as much as I say I do."

Dylan only smiled. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. Did he believe him? Of course he did—to a point. But anything could change... Any... Well, he supposed that wasn't true. He kept thinking about it like that, always fearing it, but Ratchet never proved him right. He'd stuck by him until the end, and now he'd adopted him - made their family relationship something so binding no one could question it. And even if he would question it, as Ratchet said, he would always know deep down he was loved by the mech.

"I'm glad, Dad." Dylan told him gently as he snuggled into his chest plates.

They sat there for a long time in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. And before Dylan knew what had happened, he had fallen asleep, albeit slowly, to the hum of Ratchet's spark. He was only vaguely aware that he was asleep when he felt himself sinking deep into the soft mattress of his bed, followed by Ratchet's holoform gently rubbing his back.

"No matter how little you think about yourself... I'm proud to call you my son, Dylan." Ratchet told him quietly. He wasn't sure Dylan could even hear him, but he also didn't seem to care. "You are the greatest thing that has happened in my life. And from here on out, I want you to know your life is going to be what it should have been from day one."

He laid the gentlest of kisses on top of Dylan's head at that, seemingly unaware of the smile that formed on Dylan's face. "I love you son. Remember that, always."

And then he was gone, leaving Dylan to mull over his words. Words that, despite those negative thoughts in his head, he found himself truly starting to believe.


	23. Indecision

A/N: Woo, it has been a long time since I've updated! Long story short, I got a puppy! I named him Sideswipe and he is the light of my life. But for the first week or so, things were crazy, so I've been spending as much time as I could adjusting both his and my lives to the new situation. But hopefully, updates should be coming more often now!

Thanks again to **sidekicks-anonymous** for their awesome job betaing my work as usual! :D

...

 **CHAPTER 23**  
 **Indecision**

"I don't understand why I need a new doctor at all."

"Because I should have done this a while ago. I thought I could handle your medical needs, but let's face it, I was worried beyond words after a skateboarding accident. Imagine if you needed real surgery, or your life was on the line. It's better I find someone unbiased to handle your medical needs." Ratchet explained.

Dylan shuddered at the thought of some strange man, or woman, touching his body. He didn't like the idea at all; it made him feel uncomfortable and violated. He had had enough of a hard time trying to get used to Ratchet doing so, after all. But they'd still tried several different people. They'd all not seemed to understand, or even tried to understand, his aversion and fear. He felt the pang of intense fear at trying a fifth person not in his immediate family, but still.

"And why would this guy be any different?" Dylan countered.

Ratchet looked quietly at his son for a moment. He knew that the boy was worried, but he also knew he could trust this mech. Though Knock Out had been a Decepticon, he had changed greatly. He'd become a very well-respected doctor. "Because I know him very well. He may have been a bit... Different during the war. But he has grown well since then and worked his way into a very high position. He's a little eccentric, but I truly believe he will be good for you."

"By different, I take it you mean a Decepticon?"

Ratchet paused a moment, looking down at him. "Okay, yes, that would be the case. But he has long since discarded such actions."

"But he was a Decepticon." Dylan shuddered.

"Dylan, I would never let him touch you if I thought he was dangerous. At least anymore."

Dylan put his hands in his pockets, then looked up at the office door. He knew that was the truth, honestly. But at the same time, he still couldn't help but feel a bit of fear. "You promise, right? I trust you, Dad. But I don't want you to break that trust or anything..."

Ratchet paused a moment, knowing exactly what Dylan was saying. But he also knew that Knock Out wouldn't ever do anything to hurt a child. He'd become a father in the time since the Great War after all; with a femme that Ratchet regrettably had never met since they had a mostly professional relationship. "Yes, I'm sure. And if not we can get right out of there. I promise. Just because I know him well does not mean I owe him any favors."

Dylan sighed quietly, his eyes focused on the door with a stark silence. He nodded his head as his only way of communicating that he understood as Ratchet opened the door. Of course Knock Out wasn't inside yet, they still had to wait for him. The boy carefully got onto the human berth as Ratchet seated himself down, impatiently eyeing the office door.

Ratchet kept an eye on his son, worried he may try to run. Again, that pang of guilt for having to do this appeared in the back of his processor. He wanted to be Dylan's doctor, he really did, but he also knew this was for the best. Especially now that they were legally father and son. He knew that their close legal and emotional bond would cloud his judgement in times of great peril and they could not have that.

Finally, the quiet click of the door got his attention. Knock Out hadn't changed much in the past hundred years, aside from his face maturing, and his frame becoming bulkier. The mech still carried himself well, and his deep crimson coat was still quite the envious paint job. His red optics immediately turned to acknowledge Ratchet with a curt nod. "Ratchet, it's good to see you. Though I must admit, I'm a little surprised you called on me for this job." He spoke calmly.

"No." Dylan breathed, grabbing both mech's attention. "You're not seriously going to let him touch me, are you?"

Ratchet cocked an optic ridge but noticed the main source of Dylan's intimidation. Ratchet paused a moment, he hadn't thought this through. The claws he had for hands would scare anyone that had been on the other end of a weapon. And he knew for a fact that Dylan had been, more than once, more than twice. He'd told him in some of their talks on the matter that his father had used or threatened, among other things, a belt or a knife on him before.

"What the pit is that supposed to mean?" Knock Out immediately shot back.

"It means you're not putting those claws on me." Dylan told him, with a tone to match the mech's own.

Knock Out looked a little surprised for a moment, looking down at his claws. Was this kid serious? His optics looked over at Ratchet, who was at a loss for words.

"Dylan, apologize to Knock Out right now. Many mechs and femmes were born with appendages you'd call 'claws,' and while I did not completely think this through that, is no excuse for such a rude comment."

Dylan remained silent, shooting Ratchet a "are you kidding me?" look. Knock Out tilted his head a moment, before motioning Ratchet back out the door. Sure enough, Ratchet followed him outside as the former Decepticon closed the door.

"Alright," Knockout said seriously. "I feel like you haven't disclosed some things about the kid to me. I don't read the news but a few of my colleagues already seemed to imply that. So you want to tell me what his malfunction is?"

Ratchet sighed. He should have known that this was coming. Yet he felt a bit of guilt, knowing that Knock Out might not have read his file yet. "It's not a malfunction. Before Dylan came to me, he was a foster child, like I said... He was abused horrifically in a sexual, physical, and verbal manner by his biological father. He's simply scared of you and putting up one of his many guards as a result."

"Excuse me, did I just hear you correctly? He was..."

"Yes, you heard me correctly. I hadn't thought about it before... He's very sensitive about anyone putting their hands on his body, understandably. And your claws, while nothing to worry about for most... Well, it clearly makes him uneasy." Ratchet explained. "I'm sorry to waste your time, Knock Out. I had just hoped someone I knew personally would make him more comfortable."

Knock Out looked at the medic, then back towards the door silently. His optics seemed to be filled with a softness that Ratchet hadn't seen. Though he quickly returned to his normal, gruff looking expression before long. "You're not wasting my time, I'll work with him still. I may be new to having a youngling, but I do have other youngling patients too. I've learned to work around my more intimidating features." He put his hands on his hips. "You're telling me that youngling went through all of that though? He couldn't be older than sixteen."

"He turns fifteen next month." Ratchet explained. "And sadly, it's true. He's seeing a therapist frequently, and he's helping. But he still has trust issues, and I'm not sure those are going to go away."

Knock Out grimaced slightly, trying to keep his temper under control, Ratchet figured. Sure, he had been a Decepticon; and sure, he had been no saint in life. But Knock Out had proven himself capable of change. He'd turned himself around and reformed from being that way. And no doubt, having a kid had softened him in many ways. "Well then, we haven't got all day. Let me go and try an alternative method to my madness."

Ratchet tried to speak, but within moments, Knock Out was making his way back into the office. Dylan's eyes looked up defiantly at the medic, trying to stand his ground. "Alright, kid. I understand why you don't trust me, so you have one of two choices. And like it or not, you're going to take one of them. Because I don't have time for the two of you to get into a shouting match." Knock Out commented. "So you can either let me touch you with my "claws" as you so aptly put them. And if I so much as scrape you, Ratchet has the right to kick my aft for you..."

Knock Out didn't seem to keen on that option. But he also knew it might work, he hoped at least. "Or?" Dylan grunted.

"Or I use my holoform. It doesn't have them, and we can make this easy." Knock Out put his hands on his hips and gave the boy a firm look. "Now take your pick, we don't have all day. I've got more patients to see and your old mech has work to do too."

With a pleading expression, Dylan stared over at Ratchet. But the medic stood there for a moment, looking between the two of them. He was about ready to put a stop to this, feeling the fear. But finally, as if not believing his father would give in, Dylan looked up. "I guess I could let your holoform touch me." Dylan replied quietly. "But if you even think of going anywhere that I'm not cool with..."

The arrival of Knock Out's holoform stopped him from speaking. The medic's holoform was a tall, slender man with red hair, and auburn eyes. He looked younger than Ratchet, but had an equally seasoned looked to his eyes at the same time. "Alright kid, we'll take this nice and easy. But don't fight me too much, I don't do well when kids give me a ton of trouble." He explained. "And you don't want me to make a mistake."

Dylan stiffened, his expression tense, but Ratchet was careful to sit down right beside them. His optics on Dylan in order to remind him that he was right there. That he would never, EVER, let anyone do to him what Gene had.

"Well, you're certainly healthy enough. So I can already see for myself that Ratchet is treating you well." Knock Out commented. "Grown a few inches since you came to him last too so you're growing properly. Now what's this about scars on your body?"

"They're old." Ratchet commented. "Dylan doesn't like showing them to people. It's personal."

"Yeah, well, I'd like to take a look at them myself. No offense, Ratchet, but I do like to see all aspects of my patient's health. And even on the off chance that there are fresh scars..." Knock Out commented.

"Dad would never hurt me like that. He's promised me plenty of times."

"Nothing personal towards your sire, kid. But I don't take my chances with abuse victims."

Ratchet wanted to throttle Knock Out for trying to force this on Dylan. But then he remembered, quietly, that he had forced the same thing on him. He took a deep breath, looking at Knock Out. "Look in my memory banks, then. You'll see I've never put a hand on him. You don't need to invade his personal space like that. I made that mistake and it hurt his trust of me for a while." Ratchet told him, his voice firm.

Dylan noticed the tension between the two of them, his eyes lowering. Was Ratchet going to get into trouble if he didn't see his scars? Dylan didn't want that to happen, especially not now that he was adopted. "Dad?" Ratchet turned his head at the timid voice. "It's OK, I don't want you to get in trouble. I... I'll show him my scars." Dylan breathed.

"Your sire wouldn't be in trouble..." Knock Out began.

"It's okay... Dad's told me they're nothing to be ashamed of. And besides... I don't want to be trouble anymore."

Knock Out paused a moment, his optics turning to Ratchet. The older medic appeared thoroughly impressed with the reaction. "Dylan, you're not trouble. And you don't have to do this." Ratchet explained.

"I want to." Dylan replied. "I can't be scared of people seeing them forever, right?"

Knock Out hardly had a chance to reply before Dylan removed his shirt. At once, there was a stark silence in the room as Knock Out took in the sight. The lacerations, the faded damage... The "brand" of Gene's initials that were forever there. He tried not to stare for long, but the sight disgusted him. If it had been the finish of an Autobot, Knock Out could take care of it, reverse such damage so they didn't have to carry it on them forever.

But humans were another thing entirely. "Your father did this irreparable damage to your finish!?" Knock Out nearly snapped.

"... A lot of it's from him, some from other homes..." Dylan went red with embarrassment. "You can tell the difference since his are older... But they stick out the most. At least, to me."

Knock Out tried hard to keep his temper in check, his holoform's eyes looking over him. "How could anyone treat a youngling...Their own, or not in such a manner?" He asked as his tanks churned in disgust. "If I could do anything for it, you can believe I'd do something about it. But your sire's right, it's nothing to be ashamed of. If anything the vile creatures that called themselves your caretakers should be ashamed."

Dylan relaxed a little, but even moreso as Knock Out carefully handed him his shirt. The mech seemed to shift a little bit as Dylan put his shirt back on. "I uh... That's all you need?" Dylan asked quietly.

"I only needed to see it once. You never have to show it to me again."

At that point, Dylan relaxed more, as Ratchet watched him. Knock Out carefully placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, beginning to move onto the other parts of his check-up. And in that moment, Ratchet could see the quiet shift from fear, to calmness in Dylan. A sign that he was slowly, but surely finding a way to trust him. "So... Dad told me you were a bit of a troublemaker..." Dylan commented, as he had vaguely remembered the chat about Knock Out from months before.

"That's a funny statement coming from someone who met their sire by tagging him." Knock Out mused. "But I did have a wild side in my day, yes."

"In your day? How many times has Prowl arrested you for street racing?" Ratchet snorted.

"Hey! It's a fun sport!"

"Wow, even I wouldn't have the guts to street race." Dylan gave a grin. "Though there was this one time before I met Dad when I was with a friend of mine."

"I wouldn't finish that sentence. I don't want to hear it." Ratchet groaned.

But he saw what Dylan was trying to do, he was trying to level with Knock Out more. To continue to see if this mech was really someone he could trust. And in response, Knock Out barked out a laugh. "Tagging and in the same car as a street racer. Primus, Ratchet. Where did you find this one at only fourteen years old?" He snorted.

Ratchet grimaced, but quickly returned to a soft smile. "He's really something alright. Though if he doesn't want to be grounded for the rest of his natural born life, those days are behind him."

Knock Out looked at Ratchet with a mischievous grin. As if to say what Dylan was thinking: "Yeah right!" After all, he was still just a kid. "If he's anything like I was at his age in our years, he won't be outgrowing it anytime soon." Knock Out noted. "And there's nothing wrong with a little of it. But take it from me kid, you'll WANT to mellow out. Lest you want the old mech bailing you out of jail."

Ratchet cringed at the thought of having to ever bail Dylan out of jail. That would be the day, he figured. He'd probably give his son the lecture of his life if that happened. "If he knows what's good for him, that is never going to happen." Dylan threw his hands up a little. "I had to help him from going to juvie when I first met him. So he really doesn't want to know how long he'd be grounded for if he ended up in there anyway."

Knock Out snorted, while Dylan made a mental note in regards to never getting arrested. "Well then, onto better topics, he seems healthy. The scars that seemed to come from that skateboarding accident are all healed or healing. So I say we just need our annual check-up in a few months." He then looked at the boy skeptically. "If the human agrees to be my patient from now on, that is."

Dylan tiled his head a little, thinking it over for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess you're alright. I think I can learn a lot from you if anything else."

"Allspark forbid!" Ratchet groaned. Yet, a wave of relief came over him all the same. The hunt was over, even if that meant he now had to deal with the possibility of Knock Out helping Dylan be a better troublemaker. And on that note, he had a feeling this was coming at the cost of some of his peace as well.

...

Ratchet was making Dylan's next appointment when Knock Out came up behind him. The Autobot turned his head towards him, raising an optic ridge. The crimson former Decepticon seemed to stare around, only satisfied to speak when he knew Dylan was out of earshot. "How in the pit is that man still breathing? That is some of the worst damage I've seen done to a youngling!" He spoke with a dark tone eerily reminiscent of his former self. "He should be locked up so long he forgets what the sun looks like."

Ratchet took a deep breath, he should have known this reaction was coming; especially after the look that Knock Out had after examining his back. "Unfortunately, Dylan was five when the man stood trial. He was too scared to speak of all the abuse he suffered." He shook his head. "As for why he's still breathing - that's a mystery even to me. Especially given how prison inmates are said to treat child molesters."

"Sounds like it's time for some vigilante justice if you ask me." Knock Out snarled. "If anyone raped my youngling, whipped him, and fragging branded him... Well, he'd be on my examination table for a long list of the most painful experiments I could think of. A Decepticon in their heyday would have more mercy on a youngling!"

Ratchet thought of arguing but knew it was pointless. Some Decepticons were good mechs fighting for the wrong reasons, and he couldn't deny that may be true in some circles. "You should keep your voice down. Dylan's having a hard time dealing with him being out as it is." Ratchet told him as quietly as possible. "As for vigilante justice... I'm a medic..."

"Who gives a scrap! If it kept my youngling safe, I'd do it. You should be thinking that way too." Knock Out added, lowering his voice to the best of his ability. "The fact you can even keep this calm about it-"

"I'm not keeping calm about it. In fact, my spark is turning in knots right now." Ratchet told him bluntly. "But at the same time I know I need to keep a level head for Dylan. What example would I be setting to talk about vigilante justice? A terrible one. Especially when he's barely getting over this psychologically."

Knock Out stood there for a long moment, finally taking a deep breath. Ratchet knew he had him there, as a parent himself. No one wanted to set a bad example for their kids, and Knock Out sure didn't want his kid to pick up on attitudes like that either. "Yeah, well... You may be right there. But either way, I'd start thinking about what I would do if that fragger showed up. Someone who did that isn't going to go out without a fight." He explained darkly. "Anyway, I have patients to attend to. Catch you later."

Even as Knock Out left, Ratchet could hear his words echo in his helm. What would he do if Gene came knocking on their door? What would he do if he decided to try and hurt Dylan again? A part of him wanted to say he'd let him go to jail for the rest of his life if he hurt Dylan. But the other, however small, urged him that if that happened, he would ensure Dylan would never have to fear him again. Even if that meant killing the man by his own hand.

He watched as Dylan played a game in a chair silently. His optics softening as the thoughts continued to enter his processor. He reminded himself that he wouldn't need to worry about this if all went well. Maybe Knock Out would be wrong and he'd never have to worry about the man coming around. But like it or not, Ratchet did have to think about it. Because the day may come, whether soon, or in the future, where he'd have to make that choice.

And Primus almighty, that thought scared him.


	24. Potential

A/N: As usual, a big thanks to my beta, **Sidekicks-anonymous** , for her work on this chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 24  
Potential  
**

"Primus, I am proud of you."

"Daaaaddd, people are staring..."

"Let them stare! My son's artwork, hanging in a gallery!"

Dylan blushed as Ratchet looked upon his artwork for the third time. His art teacher had done it, taking her best students' works to be on display in the Jasper Museum. Though it was only a one day exhibition, and he felt Ratchet may be overreacting a bit, it was still a fair bit exciting to him too. First Aid, of course, had joined them, and was grinning from receptor-to-receptor beside Ratchet.

Dylan felt his face go red at both of them, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't sure what to think of all of this, though it genuinely made him happy to have people there to support him. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty cool. I mean, it's nothing that original, but I tried." Dylan looked over at the painting of the beach that he had done. "I mean, it's pretty plain."

"Pretty plain? It looks super realistic to me!" First Aid added in happily.

Dylan continued to look down and try and hide his embarrassment. He was never going to get used to the praise, he was sure of that. He'd gone so long without any praise that the fact anyone wanted to praise him was weird. Even stranger that they were praising his art, when the only art he had ever done for the longest time had been the kind most everyone hated.

But there were still a lot of things that he had to get used to in that respect. Being with Ratchet truly was one big learning experience. When he'd come he didn't know what a real family or love were like. "Alright, again, you're embarrassing me. But thanks." Dylan finally managed a laugh.

"That's what family does." First Aid snorted. "What good would we be if we didn't embarrass you a little?"

Dylan shrugged. He guessed he really couldn't argue with that. He had seen parents and family embarrass their children all the time.

"Dylan, is this your family?" Dylan jumped as he spun around to find his teacher, Mr. Lyon making his way over, finally having found his way over. "Which one of you is Ratchet? I've been meaning to thank the mech who got this boy into painting."

Dylan really wanted to disappear now. He knew he had no way of getting out of this conversation. Mr. Lyon was a very eccentric man who had taken a great liking to him. Since the moment he'd seen Dylan's art, he seemed to believe that the boy had an insane amount of talent. So of course, when he'd said his father had convinced him to take up real painting, he'd wanted to meet him.

"This is my dad." Dylan nodded. "Ratchet, this is Mr. Lyon."

"I have to say, I am so thankful that someone told this boy he had talent! I'm surprised he told me it's only been a few months since he took up this type of art. Mr. Ratchet, you truly should be proud of the remarkable boy you have adopted here." Mr. Lyon immediately began chatting Ratchet's ear off. "He could be one of the greats in the making. Just from the last few months we've had him alone, he continues to surprise me with his combination of modern grunge, and classic designs."

Ratchet gave Dylan a smirk that said _I told you so_ , which the boy tried to ignore. "You don't say? Dylan seems to believe the opposite and get embarrassed if I suggest that. I've been telling him since he started that he's got talent."

"Yes, well, he's very wrong. So much so, that I have brought a real professional artist here today. I was hoping that he could look over some of my students' work. Provide good advice to children like Dylan who have such a bright future." Mr. Lyon nodded his head. "I don't suppose either of you have heard of a Cybertronian artist known as Sunstreaker?"

Ratchet's smirk somewhat faded, but he tried to hide it. Sunstreaker was going to be here? Primus! If the twins were here he would never be able to keep Dylan from their influence anymore. Yet, he was going to do his best to hide his actual reaction. "Oh yes, Sunstreaker and his brother, Sideswipe, and I go... way back." He replied finally.

"That's saying the least, Hatchet!"

Dylan stared up as the hand clapped his father on the back. Dylan had imagined the "terror twins" a few times, but they were not at all what he was expecting. Of course, he'd known them by name, they were so famous among the Autobots. But even so, he had to take a moment to take them in. The one that clapped Ratchet on the back was red colored, shorter, with a helm that seemed to be tipped like spiked hair, and a sheepish grin.

Then the second, no doubt his twin, stood looking at his painting. He was a tad bit taller than the other, but their facial structure, and general build gave him away. However, what really set him apart was the deep gold color of his armor, and the twin fins on either side of his head.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Sideswipe." Ratchet spoke with a bit of frustration, turning to look at the red one. "I thought maybe your brother would leave you alone for this."

"Psh! Of course not! I wanted to check it out too. Just because I'm not an artist like Sunshine over there doesn't mean I don't enjoy art!" Sideswipe commented. "Hey! Is this your kid? I've been keeping up with that over the news. What's up, kid? I'm Sideswipe."

Dylan waved shyly, daunted by the mech's own open friendliness. He was definitely the energetic one of the pair. "Uh... Hey, I'm Dylan." He commented. "I've heard a lot about you."

"A lot? Probably nothing good with Hatchet talking about it."

Ratchet crossed his arms. Dylan gave him a "he's got you there" look. "Well, he can make his own decision on you now," Ratchet said shortly. "Hopefully, if he has any sense, he'll see you as the knucklehelm you are."

Dylan paid attention to Sunstreaker now, waiting for him to say or do something. But he didn't; he merely stood there examining the painting.

"Lyon, who was the student who did this piece?" Sunstreaker finally spoke up, his optic ridge raising. "It's probably the best work of art I've seen all day."

Dylan looked a little surprised. "That's... mine, actually."

"Whoa! Hatchet, your kid's an artist?" Sideswipe exclaimed, surprised.

"That's why I'm here right now." Ratchet replied matter-of-factly. "I'm not normally one to go to galleries like this."

But Sunstreaker didn't pay much attention to either one of them. Instead, his optics focused on Dylan. "You're the youngest artist here. I'm surprised a human that inexperienced would claim to make a piece this detailed." He explained rather bluntly.

Dylan stood his ground, taking a step forward. "It's mine! I worked really hard on it... And what do you mean, detailed? I could have made something way better! But I was too nervous and just... I don't know... I went for something in my head."

Sunstreaker cocked an optic ridge. "Take a compliment, fleshy. If you really did do this painting you've got _serious_ potential." He looked towards Ratchet. "You mean to tell me you had a human with this much talent in your house and you didn't let me know?"

Ratchet didn't have an answer prepared for that. "I'd thought about it, admittedly. But, forgive me, you two aren't exactly the best influences for him in my mind." Ratchet said. "I suppose it was inevitable, though. But yes, he is extremely talented. I've been telling him this for months and it still amazes me that he denies it."

Sunstreaker was silent a moment, his optics flickering. "Well, I think I might have one or two ideas. But that's probably best discussed in private. Even I'm not that big of a prick."

Dylan frowned, unsure of how to respond to that. He looked away, and tried to make himself quiet. "Whoa! You aren't kidding. Look at those colors." Sideswipe commented. "You really did this all yourself? Wow, you can't be older than twelve!"

"I'm fourteen, about to be fifteen." Dylan replied, offended.

Sideswipe looked a bit embarrassed by that, but Sunstreaker had to laugh. Lyon however, looked over at him and spoke up. "Well, you definitely have a good eye. Dylan's the youngest one here, but he's the most talented young teen I've met. Most kids here have developed their styles for four years. But Dylan's done it quickly." He explained. "I hoped you'd take notice in him; I believe he needs mentorship beyond what I can teach him."

Dylan looked at Lyon like he had just grown a second head. What in the world was he saying? Had he just asked Sunstreaker about mentoring him? Even Dylan knew that was stupid. He'd heard that Sunstreaker was a world-renowned artist. Even if he was a friend of Dylan's father and teacher, he had no time to be a mentor.

"Lyon, you're kidding me, right? You know I don't mentor." Sunstreaker snorted. "And if I did, the last place I'd look is a teenager. Kid, don't take it personally, you're talented. But I don't exactly play well with youths of any species."

"He barely gets along with _adults_ of _his_ species!" Sideswipe joked.

"Ain't that the truth?" Ratchet rolled his optics. "Not to mention the thought of my son being mentored by him..."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sunstreaker replied with a scowl.

"With no offense intended to you, Sunstreaker, Dylan was... not very well behaved when I first met him. And given your track record with younglings. I'm pretty sure you'd either botch it, or turn him back down that road. The latter of which I'm not willing to let happen."

"Hey! I could be a good mentor if I wanted to!" Sunstreaker snapped, optics narrowing. "Your youngling has enough talent that I would make a great one."

Dylan looked confused. Was Sunstreaker saying he'd do it? No, he didn't think that for a second. The mech had made it clear that he didn't have any interest in mentoring, despite his compliments.

"That's a bit of a laugh if you ask me, Sunshine. Even I can't see it." Sideswipe teased his brother.

"Don't call me that!"

"Sorry, but seriously. You could hardly stand other younglings when WE were their age!"

Sunstreaker looked really annoyed now, especially as First Aid chuckled in amusement. The medic shook his head, and put an arm around each of their shoulders. "Guys, we're missing the point here. Dylan's a really talented kid, and it's great you both think he's great." He explained. "Let's not argue about—"

"No, no... They want to think that, that's fine." Sunstreaker replied. "Because I intend to prove them wrong."

"Excuse me?" Ratchet asked.

Sunstreaker smirked pridefully, his optics turning to Dylan. "If the kid really wants a mentor, I can do it. I mean, it's not like I'm working with nothing. And since you all seem to think I'd make _such_ a bad one, what better way to prove you wrong?" He asked smugly.

Dylan was shocked. Sunstreaker saw enough in him to actually want to mentor him? Even if it was only to prove his friends wrong? "I-I-I-I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure I'm that good... I don't even know if I want to be an artist for sure."

"Don't know if you want to be an artist!? Is that some sort of joke?" Dylan shook his head at the golden mech. "Kid, no one paints with the amount of care I see in your art and doesn't have passion for it. You can't tell me you don't love working on it, at least."

Dylan looked at the painting. He couldn't lie there. He did love painting, and he had enjoyed spray painting too. Was that passion? He looked confused, trying to think of what to say. "Well I do... I guess..."

Ratchet gave a sigh and spoke up. "He has great passion for what he does. That much is obvious. He spent days on that painting, hardly did anything else." Dylan blushed a little at that. "But if you want to do this, you're going to have to convince me you're not going to shrug this off. Dylan has a hard time putting trust in people as it is."

Sunstreaker tensed, and looked back at Dylan, as if he already knew that. Like some part of him understood exactly what Ratchet meant. "I need to get the rest of the sparklings in. So if you want him to get some pointers and mentoring from me, bring him by my place tomorrow. Around six o'clock at night." He nodded his head. "If so, I'll see you around, pipsqueak."

"It was uh, nice to meet you."

"Catch ya later guys." Sideswipe nodded. "Nice meeting you, Dylan."

And with that, the twins were off. Dylan looked at Ratchet, then to Lyon. The teacher smiled. "Well, I should go speak to the other families as well. It was so nice to meet you both. Dylan, come see me before you leave, will you?"

"Sure..."

And then it was just the three of them. First Aid turned to look at Ratchet. "Welp, this is gonna be interesting. You really going to bring him by Sunny's? I bet he'd get even better with his help!" He added.

Ratchet looked like he was still deciding. "That's not untrue... But I'll have to sit on it a bit. I'm not saying no, though." He added.

Dylan had a feeling that he knew the answer—and it was "yes".

...

Of course, after some convincing by First Aid, Ratchet agreed.

The twins lived in a rather nice, comfortable two-story house. It seemed rather nice from the outside, but Dylan had a feeling it would be cluttered inside.

"You know, you don't have to go. Sunstreaker offered but you don't have to take it." Ratchet stated as they walked up the sidewalk to the cream-colored home. "He's really not that great with kids."

"He's one of the best painters out there, though. I saw his work online earlier, dad. He's amazing."

Ratchet sighed, even as he rang the doorbell to the home. His optics regarded his son like he just wasn't sure what to say. "That's true... But he's still a bit different, Dylan. He won't be soft on you like most are. I don't want to see you upset."

"Are you saying I'd upset a child on purpose?"

Ratchet looked over with embarrassment as Sunstreaker stood in the doorway now. The golden mech looked at the older one as if waiting for a response. But Ratchet merely groaned, he sagged his shoulders. "Just promise me you'll at least go easy on him. Remember, this is my son. If he comes home crying, I'll have your helm."

Sunstreaker shifted a bit, shrugging his shoulders. "Trust me, I'm not sparkless. I read the stories in the paper just like everyone else did. I'll be easy on the kid, obviously. But I don't think he wants to be treated like a fragile piece of glass. Sides and I know that as well as anyone."

Ratchet was silent, but Dylan looked surprised. Had the twins been abuse victims? "I understand that," his father said, "But I'm still warning you. Remember how you would have felt at his age. I'm sure you had your own struggles with... Your situation." Sunstreaker was silent, but finally nodded. "Alright, Dylan, I'll be waiting for a call to come pick you up... Be good to them. I expect you to be on your best behavior."

"Yeah, dad. I got it." Dylan replied. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

Ratchet seemed to hesitate after speaking, but finally left. For a moment, Dylan and Sunstreaker stood there, watching and waiting for him to drive off. Once he had, Sunstreaker gave a friendly smile, a rare occurrence for him. Dylan had a feeling it was his way of trying to show Dylan he didn't bite TOO much. "Alright. No turning back now, pipsqueak. Come on in."

Dylan followed him inside. It was just as he expected-a bit messy, with art hanging on the walls and some swords on tables. But for the most part, it looked typical of two bachelor mechs living together.

"So I'm gonna get this question out of the way now. How the pit did you end up with Hatchet as your sire?" Sunstreaker asked.

The question surprised Dylan. Of course, he should have seen this coming, given how they seemed to view Ratchet. "Well, I guess it's a long story. Though it started with me deciding Dad needed a new paint job." He laughed lightly.

"A new paint job?" Sunstreaker questioned.

"Yeah, I used to tag. And Dad was just sort of an easy target because he was recharging. But he sees everything, so of course he caught me. So he made me do community service instead of going to juvie... That led to him fostering me... And, well..." Dylan paused a moment. "I guess he just showed me the love no one else did. So when he asked to adopt me, I said yes."

"You must have been dropped on your head or something to want him to adopt you. That mech is crazy most of the time." Sunstreaker snorted. "Glad he treats you that well, though. Every kid deserves to be loved. Even I recognize that and I'm not a kid person most of the time."

Dylan laughed, knowing that the mech had a point. Ratchet was a little crazy, but he sure as heck was a good dad. "Yeah, he's a little on the eccentric side but he's good to me. And he's probably the only person I've ever felt safe or loved by." He shook his head. "I know it's cheesy, but it's true. So I guess I'm OK with it being cheesy."

Sunstreaker shrugged as he led Dylan down a hallway, his optics traveling back to him. "Well I've never seen Ratchet look at someone the way he looks at you. I mean, you'd think you were a patient with all that care and sappy scrap in his optics every time he's around you." Sunstreaker snorted. "It's kind of sickeningly sweet."

"Uh... Thanks? I think?"

Sunstreaker didn't reply as they entered a room that appeared to be his office. It was filled with paintings, both finished and unfinished. "Before we start, I have a question. It's really important towards understanding your style..." He paused a moment. "Why do you paint?"

"Excuse me?" Dylan asked blankly.

"Why do you paint? Every artist has a reason."

Dylan blinked. No one had ever asked him that before. His voice caught in his throat, his mind trying to think of how to avoid saying it. But he knew that he couldn't keep the trauma in forever. He was getting better at sharing the truth, as hard as it was. "When I lived with my bio dad, he used to keep me in an attic. I didn't have a lot to do but there were... paints in the attic." He explained. "I used to paint on the walls. Stick figures at first, stupid little stuff... It helped me forget where I was and what he was doing... It made me happy."

Sunstreaker looked like he wasn't sure how to respond to that. Some artists used painting as an escape, but this... This was a whole other level of tragic. "So that's why you started tagging huh? You painted on the walls." Sunstreaker asked. He got a shrug, and a nod in return. "That's... Quite the way to start a hobby."

"I don't need pity." Dylan replied. "I'm glad it was there. Without it... I don't know what I'd do."

Sunstreaker nodded his head, and gave the faintest of smiles. "Painting to escape a horrible reality…having it become a lifelong passion…" He murmured, his voice soft. "I guess we have that in common kid. Which means this will be a piece of cake."

Dylan could only wonder what that meant.

...

A/N: There will be more of this next chapter! But this was getting really long and I thought I'd split up the Sunstreaker bits between two chapters as opposed to one long chapter.


	25. Relating

**CHAPTER 25  
Relating  
**

They'd been working for a good hour.

Sunstreaker had already shown him a great deal of techniques that Dylan had never thought of before. A different stroke of the brush, a different shade you could create, a different type of painting. For his part, Sunstreaker was really good at explaining these things in a way that Dylan could understand. And even better at leveling with him on several things too.

Eventually, Sunstreaker decided to take a break. And they seated themselves down to hang out. "So, you... Said you were abused too." Dylan spoke up, and after a moment asked. "Did you mean that?"

Sunstreaker looked at Dylan like he had definitely seen this coming. He sighed a little, then set his energon cube down. "I was a gladiatorial slave... Sides and I were." He explained. "So yeah, you can say we were abused in a way most people should be glad they'll never know."

Dylan was silent a moment, then spoke up. "Like a roman gladiator? Fighting to the death and all?"

"Pretty much exactly like that." Sunstreaker grunted. "And before that, we were house slaves too. Locked in a cellar, kept hidden. Treated like we were rodents or something worse..." He tried to relate to Dylan. "The fragged up thing being both positions were legal under the caste system."

"Legal? Like they could..."

"Do that and face no charges? You bet. We were the slave caste."

Dylan was silent, but hugged his legs to his chest. He thought for a moment, and then spoke up. "My... Well, Gene. He used to lock me up in the attic. He'd shackle me so I couldn't even reach the door he got in using." He told him quietly. "I didn't even get a bed. I slept on the floor, cobwebs, spiders and all."

"Sounds like our childhoods were about the same for the same amount of time." Sunstreaker grimaced. "I guess in a way you were lucky though. You went into foster care, my master sold me off to a fragging fighting ring."

"I wouldn't consider myself lucky." Dylan shook his head.

"Really? You had a home, even if it was temporary. Probably a bed to sleep in most of the time... Food." Dylan was silent for a moment, not having thought of that. "You know what it's like to live in pit, Dylan. I'm not denying that. But you were lucky... They got you out of it. Even if some foster homes were probably just as bad. At least when someone found out, they could take you out of there."

Dylan had never thought about it that way. But at the same time, he knew that Sunstreaker was right. Dylan may have felt like a slave in his biological home, and in some foster homes. But the truth was he was never enslaved after he'd been saved from his biological father. Whereas from the sound of things, Sunstreaker was a slave nearly his entire life before the war.

"I guess you're right, I am lucky in a way." He took a moment to consider his next words. "I'm sorry... You had to go through that. No one should ever have to go through that for that long a time."

"I don't need you to be sorry for me, kid." Sunstreaker told him bluntly. "We both had fragging hard as pit lives. I mean, I've read about the foster care system. I know that was no cakewalk either. My life may have been harder, but yours... Yours was bad in a different way."

Dylan was silent for a long moment. "I guess so. I just... I can't imagine being an actual slave either." He said honestly.

"And I can't imagine being raped when I was a sparkling." Sunstreaker replied. "So I guess we have something in common."

Dylan looked away at that, knowing he had a point. People like them all had something terrible in their life that they couldn't quite relate to the other with. He looked at Sunstreaker a moment, and then spoke. "I... I guess that was really hard. I didn't really grasp it until near the end, that it was wrong I mean. I just knew it hurt, and I didn't like it before that." He explained, as Sunstreaker listened quietly. "Now that I really know what happened... I just... I don't... I mean..."

"I get it. I'd probably have a hard time dealing with it too." Sunstreaker was silent for a moment. "Do you actually remember anything? I mean you were so slagging young."

Dylan was silent. He hadn't talked about that a lot, or said how much he remembered to many people. But, something about the way Sunstreaker spoke made him feel like he understood. "I remember everything. Every detail, everything he did..." Dylan told him honestly. "Every time I feel like I'm starting to forget. Like I can finally unsee it... I have a nightmare and it all comes back to me."

Sunstreaker looked like he didn't know how to reply to that for a moment. But after a long moment, he spoke up. "That's how it feels when I think back about my time as a slave. Wish I could say it goes away since I feel for you." He explained. "And you'd better not spread that around mind you." He made very clear. "But it's always probably gonna be hard. Just gotta figure out a way to get through it."

Dylan understood that much. Given he'd figured that out to an extent a long time ago. "I know, and dad's making it easier for me." He explained, taking a deep breath. "Sometimes I wonder why... Especially since I don't get how he puts up with me."

"What do you mean?" Sunstreaker asked.

"... Well dad's a veteran from the war. He's a hero." Dylan told him honestly. "He could have had just about anyone. But he chose to put up with the kid who has those kind of problems. I feel bad sometimes, that he has to put up with that... And the papers when they talked about those three other men, and..."

"Hey, hey." Sunstraker stopped him. "You don't think that way. You deserve the same love as any fragging one else. We all do. Sure, I'm not exactly the lovey dovey kind. But even I've got Sideswipe, and he's got me. No matter what happened in life, no one deserves to be alone."

"But dad-."

"Knew what he was getting into. And if Hatchet regretted it that would be his fragging problem anyway." Sunstreaker put it as bluntly as he could. "Look, if I'm gonna mentor you, I don't want to hear this slag. Stop caring about what other people think of Ratchet adopting you. Stop caring what people think of your past, and what happened to you. If they know you, they know it took a lot of bravery and strength to survive that slag. And you're a tough kid for surviving it." He then added. "If anything, Ratchet should be proud he gets to say you're his sparkling."

Dylan looked at Sunstreaker like he couldn't believe he'd said it so bluntly. He was silent for a long moment, and then spoke up. "I sometimes wonder..."

"If he is? Pfffttt. I've been told by a bunch of my friends how much he brags about you. Thinks you're the best thing since fragging wrenches." Sunstreaker held nothing back in saying that. "Ratchet keeps pictures of you in his office too. I've seen 'em. Have to see him once and a while for a check-up, and I sure as slag have seen the pictures."

Dylan was silent. "I guess I just thought that was normal parent stuff."

"It is, but that's not what matters. What matters is that it means he's proud to be your parent. Remember that kid, you need to remember that stuff to keep you going." Sunstreaker looked at him for a long, hard moment. "If he was ashamed, he'd do the opposite, wouldn't he?"

That, the boy couldn't argue with. He rested his hands on his knees, and smiled. "You know, you're good at this... Whole talking thing." He commented. "I don't see why people think you wouldn't be a good mentor."

"Don't go spreading that around." Sunstreaker made clear. "I've got a reputation to keep as a hard aft. And one that doesn't have soft spots for any humans, kids or otherwise." He told him rather bluntly. "But you're... A pretty alright human."

"Just "pretty alright"?"

"More than most of them can say." Sunstreaker stood to his feet. "Come on, now. We should get back to what you're actually here for. And isn't a heart-to-spark. Now, let's try some more of that shading, you still need some work on it."

As Sunstreaker walked over to their spot, Dylan smiled a little. He was starting to believe, on a real, honest level that Sunstreaker would be good for him. Maybe just as someone to spell out the blunt truth to him. Or perhaps as someone to look up to as a tough mech that moved past his abusive history as he was trying to.

Standing, he decided to follow him, and continue this teaching. Perhaps, after all, he really could help him.

...

"Where is he?"

"In the other room with Sides." Sunstreaker motioned for Ratchet to come in later that night. "I guess the kid has a perchant for pranks. He was asking Sides about them, and well, things kept going from there." He added.

"Just what I was afraid of." Ratchet attempted a chuckle.

They stood there for a long few moments. Before finally, Sunstreaker spoke up yet again. "You've got a really good youngling there, Ratchet. And I mean that." He told him very genuinely. "I don't get along with most humans. But he's... Got a spirit I like. He's tough, a fighter like Sides and I."

Ratchet was clearly trying to process what Sunstreaker had just said. It had gone that well? They hadn't ripped each other's heads off? "You... Like him? Wow, that's... A surprise." Ratchet commented. "Not that I don't agree that I have a good youngling in there. I pride myself in that. I just wasn't expecting that kind of response."

Sunstreaker snorted in response, thoroughly amused even if he didn't blame him. "I was a bit surprised. I thought he'd be a lot angrier than he was. I mean frag, we all heard the stories." He explained, his voice tight. "You've earned a lot of respect from me for taking him, you know that? A lot of people would have looked at his past and fragging kicked him to the curb. You didn't."

"Contrary to what you believe I wouldn't." Ratchet replied. "In fact the more I learned, the more determined I was to adopt him. He was a good kid that was lost. Very much like you two when we agreed to take you on in the Autobots. I couldn't just look away like everyone else seemed to."

"And now I hear that the bio dad's out. He try and contact you?"

Ratchet tensed as Gene was yet again mentioned. "No, but he has tried to find Dylan, I've heard. Apparently he tried to bribe his old social worker for information."

Ratchet remembered that call of warning from social services well. It had only been a week ago, but sure enough, it had happened. He had refused to tell Dylan about it either, worried that it would do nothing but incite paranoia in his son. "He doesn't know that right?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Of course not!" Ratchet replied. "And keep it that way. Dylan still wakes up screaming some nights. Other nights I need to recharge in his room because he's scared. If he even had a hint that his father was looking for him..."

"You'll recharge in his room?"

"Doesn't know that either. He thinks I'll always go to bed after comforting him. But most nights, I don't." Ratchet explained.

Sunstreaker nodded his head, then looked back towards where Sideswipe and Dylan were. He knew they'd be coming out soon, since without a doubt they had heard Ratchet. "So I'm thinking you should bring him by next week. Same time and day." He told the medic. "I think he's got all the potential I've been told, so I want to make sure he continues on with that potential."

Ratchet looked at him rather sideways. It was hard to believe that Sunstreaker was actually going to do this... And yet, the way he looked told him that he was being sincere. After all, even Sunstreaker had a tell like that. "Sounds like a plan." Ratchet finally managed as he noticed Dylan had finally come out with Sideswipe. "There you are! I hear that things went well."

"Yeah! Especially after Sides decided to show me his prank storage." Dylan replied. "Though you showed up just as he was showing me the best part."

Ratchet smirked. "Well consider myself lucky then. Time to go, Dylan. I have an early rise for work tomorrow." He explained, stretching a bit. "Sideswipe, if he's coming home with any tools with which to torment me, it's on your helm."

"You think I'd do that? Never!" Sideswipe chuckled nervously, though he shot Dylan a small wink that he knew meant he had. Sideswipe was never good at hiding these things. "It was good to meet you small fry."

"Thanks for the tips."

"Thanks for the tips." Ratchet replied with a side-eye.

"I'll see you next week, Dylan." Sunstreaker replied. "Keep working on what I taught you though. This mentoring thing won't go anywhere if you don't practice."

"Alright." Dylan nodded. "So you're really going to let me come back again, for real?"

Sunstreaker gave a small smile, and nodded. The smile was new, Ratchet noted, as he was known for being the type of mech where it was a rarity. "Not like I have anything much better to do anyway." He told Dylan in all honesty. "Now go on, he said he has to be at work early. And I don't need to tell you how cranky he gets when he doesn't have enough recharge."

Dylan smiled back, and looked at his new mentor. "Alright, thanks again guys!"

As the two exited, Sunstreaker vented out quietly. He really hoped he was making a good choice, letting himself take on this kid. But a part of him, no matter how small, already knew the answer to be "yes".

...

They looked so happy together.

Gene hadn't known what he expected upon approaching the home he'd tracked down. But he sure hadn't expected Dylan's adoptive parent to be an Autobot, or the boy to look so happy. It was late at night when he'd poked his head out to look through the window of the home. He hadn't been sure the intel from his contacts in Jasper had been accurate until he saw him.

Sure, Dylan was nine years older, but he still looked so much like his mother. He'd been getting ready for bed when Ratchet had come in to check on him. At first, Gene thought he may have been like him, but Ratchet merely made a point to give him privacy. And once he was done, use one of what he guessed was their "holoforms" to pull him into his arms.

Dylan laughed, letting Ratchet throw him onto the bed. And like he was a young kid, the mech pulled his blankets over him, tucking him in. Gene watched intently as Ratchet gave the boy a kiss on his forehead, and seemed to say some words before starting back out of the room. Both of them entirely oblivious to the man that was covertly watching them.

Gene was disgusted. How could this boy be so loved? How could he be so HAPPY? He didn't deserve it, not after ruining his life. And he wanted the boy to know that. He wanted to smash the window, jump inside and strangle the life out of him...

Yet, he knew he couldn't. Not yet. First of all, he wanted his son alive for his own reasons. And secondly, he was not stupid enough to trip the alarm, invoking the wrath of a giant robot. Anyone with a brain knew that it would not end well - most likely in his own demise.

No, he realized, he'd have to handle him later. With a plan, and perhaps back-up.

But he still smiled, a gleam in his eye. Watching as Dylan fell into a deep sleep, blissfully unaware of the fact he was just a few inches away. Gene would be sure he paid dearly for all he'd done, in ways he'd never imagine.

And when he did, not even his precious new "father" would be able to save him.

...

A/N: Man, took forever to get this one out! Hope it was worth the wait for you guys. XD


	26. Uninvited Visitor

A/N: And here's the chapter most of you have been waiting for.

Thanks, as usual to my beta, **sidekicks-anonymous** , for her work on my chapter!

...

 **CHAPTER 26  
Uninvited Visitor**

"So, somebody's fifteenth birthday is next week."

Dylan looked at Ratchet as they made their way down the hall of the hospital. It was one of the days that he was spending time with him at work, and of course, he would bring this up now. Dylan knew what his next question was going to be: what did he want to do? And Dylan wasn't sure exactly how to answer it. It would be his first real birthday, his first birthday in a permanent home with a family to call his own.

He'd never grown up having a birthday cake, presents, or any kind of party either. So he really had nothing to go on other than the few times his foster siblings had been given parties. "Dad, I don't..."

Ratchet put a hand up as he spoke up. "Dylan, I know you've never had a birthday. Just like you never had a Christmas before our first one together. Optimus is already coming in for it, as are Ironhide, Chromia, and the rest of Team Prime. You're going to have the birthday party you never had the chance to have."

"I almost forgot Prime was coming. But the whole team? Really?"

"They want to help you celebrate!"

"We already had a big party for my adoption, though."

Ratchet's look gave him the impression that he was being silly about this. But all the same, he looked away He didn't want Ratchet to continually do things like this for him, as he knew his father had his own budget.

"You've never had a birthday party, and that is not right. None of us think so." Ratchet carefully hoisted his son onto his shoulder. "I want to make sure that it's something you never forget."

"You sure know how to sell a guy." Dylan laughed.

But he was still a little nervous, not entirely sure how he felt. Maybe he was being silly, which was usually the case. Ratchet simply smirked, and crossed his arms. "Well, you do trust your old mech don't you?" Dylan shrugged, though only in a playful way. "On second thought, don't answer that."

"Of course I do." Dylan replied. "I just don't know... Another party, another time I'm the center of attention. Probably the only one."

Ratchet shook his head. "I thought you were getting better about that."

"I am, but not that much better."

For a moment, the medic considered this. Perhaps Dylan was right, maybe a smaller party was better. But even then, he told himself, it was going to be a party. "I haven't invited anyone but Ironhide, Chromia, Scarlet, Shawn, your uncle, and Team Prime. Can I make the list smaller to make you feel comfortable about this?"

Dylan thought about it, but shook his head. "No, that seems fair. But can we leave the rest of your friends out? I just... I haven't met a lot of them yet anyway. Or I did at the adoption party, or get-together but that's it." He explained. "I just want my family there mostly."

Ratchet smiled at the fact he didn't leave Team Prime out of his "family". He knew that though Dylan was still learning about them, he accepted that they were as good as family.

"OH! And Sides and Sunny." Dylan added. "I want them there too."

Ratchet groaned. "I thought I may have tricked you into leaving them out."

"You know Sunny would kill you if he wasn't invited." Dylan stuck his tongue out.

"Very true." Ratchet sighed. "Of course the terrors are invited. As much as I hate to admit it, they have been good to you. And I am very much thankful for that."

Dylan leaned against the crook of Ratchet's neck, feeling a bit better now. He knew that, at least with only that group with him, he'd feel comfortable. They'd make his "special" day fun, and make sure that he had a great time. "I guess it will be better than my other birthdays at least. One year, Gene..." Dylan paused, realizing he shouldn't say anything.

His father, for his part, gave him a look. "No need to think back that far." He told the teen gently. "Gene is nothing more than a bad memory at this point. And definitely not one you need to dwell on, given everything he's put you through."

Dylan sighed happily, as he usually did when Ratchet called Gene a "distant memory." It made him feel good to know that, for all intents and purposes, he truly was safe now. "Yeah... I know. Sometimes I can't help it though." He explained.

Ratchet kept his optics on him, opening his mouth. He closed it quickly however, knowing that he couldn't lie and tell him he had no reason to be scared. Not with the fact that Gene had been asking around about him. At least for the moment, it was best they pushed all talk away from him. "At least he's far away for now." He explained, smiling reassuringly before hearing a ping. "Welp, I'd say Bulkhead's here to take you and Shawn to the movies. He just pinged my personal comm."

"Sweet!" Dylan replied as Ratchet set him on the ground, and they changed directions towards the entrance of the hospital. "Remember, I'm gonna be home a little late. Shawn's got an awesome video game at his house I want to try."

"As long as you remember to be on your best behavior."

"Sir yes sir." Dylan chuckled.

They had no idea how lucky it was that Dylan wouldn't be home until late.

...

Eugene Logan was on the steps of Ratchet's house.

A million thoughts ran through Ratchet's mind, and had he been a mech of instinct, he might have listened to the first one and crushed the man like a bug. Yet the other part of him knew that he was in a neighborhood, and he could get arrested. He settled for giving the man the darkest glare he could muster. "You have five seconds to leave this property. If you do not, I will call the authorities."

"I guess I don't have to introduce myself then-" Gene began.

"I know who you are. I did all the research I could on my son before I adopted him. And I'll say it again, get lost before I forcibly remove you and call the authorities." Ratchet's voice was dangerously low. "I do not know how you found my home. But you can be sure they _will_ be hearing about this. If you even think about showing yourself to Dylan..."

Gene held up a hand as if trying to stop him. "You can relax, medic. I'm not here to hurt Dylan. I just want to see him..."

Ratchet gave the loudest laugh he could muster. "You must be kidding! You have a lot of nerve thinking I'd let you anywhere near my son."

"He's my son too." Gene replied.

"Don't you DARE. Dylan is no son of yours! You raped and tortured him when he was barely out of sparklinghood. You're nothing, a parasite at best!" Ratchet snapped, his voice growing more angry now. "And even if I had a lapse of judgement, there is a restraining order out for you. One you're lucky not to be in violation of now."

Ratchet had already begun to try to get Prowl on the comm link at this point. He wanted this man gone, far, far away. And if someone didn't come now, he knew he'd lose his calm and cool attitude within a few more minutes.

"You know, you're the one with a lot of nerve." Gene said cooly. "You've only known Dylan, what? A year?"

"Almost, and you can bet I've done a much better job raising him in that time."

"You're not even the same species." Gene sneered. "You could never do as good a job as someone like me."

Ratchet felt floored by the attitude, but tried again to keep his cool. "And you did SUCH a bang-up job. That's why sick pieces of slag like you are often killed in prison." Gene grimaced."How many times were you in the news for a fellow prisoner trying again? Seven times? Eight?"

That one seemed to get Gene to be at a loss for words. The man growled, and started to make his way closer to Ratchet. "You don't even know me. How do you know any of it was true?" He asked rather cooly.

Ratchet crossed his arms. "Dylan has told me all I needed to know. Both from actual conversation between the two of us, or from the nightmares he suffers due to you." He told him without missing a beat. As he heard Prowl answer his comm, he spoke. _"Prowl, I need a patrol over here as soon as possible. And another where Dylan is. I'm sending you his co-ordinates."_

 _"Why? What's going on?"_

 _"I have a scumbag he thought he was rid of at my house."_ The brief pause told Ratchet that Prowl was as shocked and disturbed by this as he was.

 _"Sending patrols to Dylan's location. I'm coming to your place myself. If he tries anything, just don't confront him violently."_

 _"It's tempting - but I'll try."_

Ratchet didn't care when Gene noticed he was acting weird. No, rather he waited for the man to try and run. Hopefully far, far away from his home, and from Dylan. "You actually called the cops on me, didn't you?" Gene asked in a tense manner. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Yet." Ratchet made clear. "You locked him in a fragging attic, and raped him daily until he was five. If you think I believe for a second that you've changed—well, don't make me LAUGH."

"It wasn't daily."

"It was more than close enough." Ratchet replied. "Now rather than argue until my police officer friend gets here, I'd suggest moving along."

Gene grimaced. He wanted to say something in return. But what could a man like him say to a giant robot that wouldn't get him killed? He was already pushing it enough, and even he knew when it was time to take a long step back. "Fine, if that's really how you think this should go. At least tell Dylan I stopped by, maybe he wants to see me." Gene smirked.

"He will not hear a fragging word." Ratchet pointed at him aggressively. "Nor does he ever want to see the likes of you again."

Gene growled, but all the same walked away, leaving Ratchet glaring at the back of his head. The man, however, quietly spoke just as soon as he was out of hearing distance. "Oh don't worry, he'll be seeing me really soon whether he wants to or not."

And even though Ratchet couldn't hear him, he had a bad feeling this was not the last time he'd see the man.

...

Ratchet was sure to act normal that night.

That said, he'd also made sure that Dylan never left his sight. He acted as if the slightest movement away from him was inviting Gene to come find him. He knew it was a fear that was somewhat implausible, but he also knew he had to keep Dylan safe. After all, Prowl had yet to find the man, and he was worried that he may still be in the area.

It had been hardest to let Dylan go to bed.

Even knowing there were undercover human cop cars in the area, that was scary. And he'd quietly, and carefully checked his windows when Dylan was sleeping. Wanting to be sure that they were locked, because at least if he broke the window, the shattering glass and the alarm would alert him. All the same, he still made it a point to walk to his room every so often, just to be safe.

The third time he came in, on his way out, Dylan turned over. "Dad?" Ratchet jumped, but turned to look at him. "What's wrong? I keep hearing you come in, and I don't usually hear you at all. Is everything OK?"

Ratchet shook his head. He needed to keep this to himself, after all. Dylan didn't need to lose sleep over this after all. "Everything's fine, Dylan. I just can't recharge. Watching you brings me comfort." He explained, keeping his voice calm.

"Did things get stressful at work or something?"

Ratchet ran a finger through his son's hair, and nodded. "You could say that. Now go back to sleep, son. I promise, if there's something you need to worry about, I'll tell you."

And he knew that part was true. For the moment, Gene had only shown up once. With any luck that would be the one and only time he showed up. Dylan shrugged a bit, and sighed. "Alright, dad." He replied pretty skeptically. "Try and get some sleep though."

"I will." Ratchet sighed a bit. "Goodnight, son. Love you."

He tried to hide the fact that his comm was beeping again. And thus, he only heard the faint reply of Dylan. _"Prowl, please tell me there's good news. I'm not sure I can keep my cool in front of Dylan much longer."_ He admitted rather quietly.

 _"It's not looking good. We've been able to confirm that he's still in town. Holed up at a Motel. We came to him to warn him, but I hate to say that he didn't pose a threat to anyone. The man has a silver tongue according to my men. And we cannot arrest him for anything..."_

Ratchet growled quietly, though he had known that last part. Whether he liked it or not, Gene wasn't within any distance worth noting of Dylan. _"Fragging... For Primus sake, Prowl. This man is a pedophile who raped Dylan for years. At the very least a very close eye needs to be on him."_

 _"And there will be. We'll keep eyes on him, and we'll keep patrols near your house. But until this man tries something, I can do nothing. You must understand how much that kills me. I care about Dylan too."_ Prowl made that very, very clear. _"If this man puts a foot out of line, you have my word. I'm bringing him in."_

 _"Unfortunately, you're talking a big if. This man was smart enough to hide his actions for five years. Who knows what..."_

 _"I wasn't in charge of the police then. Trust me on this, Ratchet. You need to go to recharge. Try and wake up in the morning less panicked. This panic is not healthy."_

Ratchet tried to keep himself calm. He knew Prowl was right, and this was hardly healthy. But at the same time, how could he feel anything but fear at the prospect of Dylan being in danger. _"Very well, I'm going to recharge. But I'm doing it outside of my son's bedroom."_ Ratchet told him. _"Unhealthy or not, if that man tries a fragging thing, I want to be ready."_

He turned off his comm before Prowl could even argue with him further. As he started towards the front door, he let himself vent out angrily. He was going to protect Dylan, he told himself. And God help that man if he so much as tried to touch the boy.

...

A/N: Well they finally met, I hope it was to your liking!


End file.
